Hello as the beginning of August is beginning to feel like the dog-days-of-summer,
While I have heard the phrase numerous times, I knew neither its origin nor its significance overall. I was quite accurate in that it is about the warmest days of summer, and I learned it corresponds the star Canis Major, and it is a period in summer from July 3rd to August 11th, so when I first began writing I was in that timeframe. Now about a week and a half later, the weather has changed as August can. Indeed, it was hot and humid, and while we did have some torrential rain more than once, much of the rainfall has been more miss than hit. And as is often the case into late summer, the mornings are foggy – the last week, I’ve seldom needed my air conditioner, and the need for a hoodie is more likely.
As I have often mentioned, I have a propensity for remembering dates. Today is Susan’s birthday. Some will ask who is Susan? Susan was my girlfriend in college, and the person who would become my first wife. And we would get married three days after her birthday. If I recall correctly, part of the decision influencing our wedding date was she wanted to be 21. One of the difficulties with going to a traditional 18-22 year old student body was I was older. I did not always think about that, but those differences would have a much more significant impact than I knew. When Susan and I got married, we did much of the planning, and we paid for much of our wedding. She actually did all the flowers. She bought her dress and worked diligently that summer on so many things. Her parents, who are amazing people, did a number of things to assist, actually much more than my parents did. Susan’s father is one of the most outstanding people I’ve ever met, and I can still say that. As I look back now, we would be married over 45 years, but not yet 50. But, for numerous reasons, and certainly some of the struggles my fault, that did not happen.
I will begin with there were things I did not manage nor was I prepared for. I will take that on my shoulders completely. What I know now, decades later, is beyond anything I consciously considered that summer of 1984. I am not sure even in my late 20s I was ready to walk down the proverbial aisle, and an even more profound, albeit difficult, reality was I am not sure I was capable of loving someone enough to be married. That again is on me and not her. Ironic how much I thought I had worked through all of that, and I had worked through pretty much none of it. When I told my father Susan had filed for divorce, he never spoke poorly about her, and he did not get overly involved during the process. The only thing he said was, “If you need anything, let me know.” It was only after we concluded the process, one day he said to me, “I’m not surprised that you got divorced.” I was both stunned and displeased by his statement. My immediate response was to dispute him, but somehow I only listened to what followed. And while I was not happy with what I heard, I remained quiet. He continued in his measured and matter-of-fact manner. “You never learned to work together, to be partners in your marriage. You were too focused on your jobs,” he said. “You were very different people, and fundamentally you did things opposite of the other.” He ended with the following observation. “You are a giver and she is a taker.” I was not expecting any of that, and my initial response was to reject his position, but as he often did, without continuing, and without belaboring things, he merely stopped. And as was generally the case, he compelled me to ponder what he said. Nothing either in his words or tone were meant to be confrontational. That was not his way. He was merely speaking his truth based on his observations.
Again, years later, I see what he said very differently. And like my father, I step back and continue to ponder and reflect. There is little he said there (or ever for that matter) that does not ring true. But through my own continued consideration, my own digging deeper and careful rumination, I think what doomed our marriage (and perhaps not the only thing, but a major factor) was i was not in love with Susan in a way that supported my being a good husband. That is not her fault, nor was it something I understood at the time. In fact, I am not sure I realized that until years later, and even after I failed at second marriage. Again, there are other contributing issues, but I alone am responsible for this aspect of what would fail.
This brings me to the title of this post. When something fails, goes poorly, or seems like we perhaps should not have taken that path to begin with, it’s typical and easy to pose the “what if?” And yet what we are doing is asking for some prophetic ability. And first, seldom are we capable of such foresight, and second, being prophetic was not popular and seldom accepted. There is little we do that is necessarily prophetic, and yet if we think critically about what we do, analyzing possible outcomes, it is not impossible to come up with some credible idea of what is likely. I do not think having a strong sense of what is probable should ever be a surprise, but most often I think we merely fail to take the time to think about the long-term implications of our choices. When I think about the intersection of thought and emotion, most of my poor choices, most of the times I have met with less than ideal consequences occurred when I responded emotionally with little room for thought. So are we predestined to our failures, or our successes for that matter? Doubtful . . . I believe it’s because to seldom do we take the time to ask the what if questions either in a timely manner or in a way where we really want to hear the answer, or listen to it. Should I have married Susan that summer of 1984? That’s a difficult question, and I can imagine both of us answering that question in the negative, but I believed I was in love with her and after being together for 3 or so years, it seemed appropriate to be sure. Do I regret being married to her? Again a difficult question for both I think. I do not. Do I regret some of my choices and decisions, some of my actions? I most certainly do. Do I wish it might turned out differently? To some degree, of course. I think what I wish is that I would have understood my late-20s self better. What if?
Thanks as always for reading.
Michael
thewritingprofessor55 