April 24, 2000
DOWN HOME:
Next time you squabble, thank the Lord for love
___This discussion would have been impossible, not to mention unthinkable, not so very long ago.
___I called Joanna on my way home from work, yakking on the cell phone. That's the "impossible" part. I remember when mobile communication remained the science-fictionstuff of Dick Tracy's two-way wrist radios. But there I was, stuck in crawling rush-hour traffic, calling my beloved from a phone never impeded by cord or connection.
MARV KNOX
Editor
___And both of us still were smarting from frustrating afternoons, brought to our electronic knees by malfunctioning computer software. That's the "unthinkable" part.
___Jo couldn't get the accounting program she uses in her bookkeeping business to run. I couldn't get my electronic calendar to synchronize with my laptop. Not so long ago, we couldn't conceive our lives would be made so complicated by machines that were built to make our lives so carefree.
___So, we snipped at each other. If you've ever been married, you know what I mean: You're not mad or upset with each other, but you're just plain frazzled. And you take it out on the one person you know (unconsciously, at least) won't hold it against you.
___These are the times when you try to one-up your better half with low-down moaning.
___"What's a-matter," the husband asks, detecting the tell-tale tone of her voice.
___"Well, I've had a really no-good, rotten, horrible, abominable day," she replies. "My computer crashed."
___"That so?" he retorts. "I've had the worst day since the stock market crashed. You know that report I've been working on for two weeks? The 152-pager that's due tomorrow? My laptop ate it for lunch. My career's over. My reputation's shot. And 57 more hairs fell off of my head while I drove home from work."
___On and on it goes. I know, because I've heard it. Not just with Jo, but even with my grandparents. Pop could describe his mail route as if it were the Bataan Death March. Mom could report a day at school like the Battle of the Bulge. And then they would hug and kiss and pat each other on the back and tell each other what a good, hard worker the other one was.
___Some people might see that as complaining, but I'm sure it was just plain ol' love therapy. And it kept them going for five decades--through the Great Depression, a World War and raising four boys.
___If you've got a home where you can take your shoes off, gripe about the weather, fume about the computers and just be yourself, thank God. Griping isn't therapeutic in and of itself, but unconditional love works wonders.
___Just remember when it's time to tell a good joke and laugh at life.
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