Marriage Advice
/We’ve got some simple advice about marriage advice: don’t give it. But does that stop Al? No way. And for any readers who think that Al is anything like me, you can put that to rest. The fact that his name is also my initials, or the fact that John drew him as a combo of me and his famous Little Caesar’s “Pizza Pizza” guy is merely coincidental.
When John and I talked about the kind of stuff husbands and wives do to each other, the topic of throw pillows came up. Almost immediately. In an online Swiffer campaign, this grumpy old man says: “You know what you do with throw pillows? You throw them!!” And with that, he sweeps them off the couch and onto the floor. Thank you to Tanya Mishu and Amanda Melson for coming up with that one. It sums up my feelings about throw pillows to a tee. When you get tired and it’s time for bed, who wants to take 17 throw pillows off the bed before you can turn down the blankets and crawl in? Not me. But this is one of those ridiculous, meaningless things that married couples argue about. And if one of us wins the argument, we can share this valuable advice with our children, when they get married or committed to a serious relationship.
Granted my wife wins most of these confrontations, so the precious few that I actually win stand out. Truth is there aren’t a precious few. There’s only one. And it’s my hockey stick coat rack from 1978. I had gotten my first job in advertising in 1977 and rented my first apartment in 1978. I saw a magazine article featuring a coat rack made of hockey sticks. Picture six sticks with their blades on top for hanging coats. And 6 more sticks with the blades on the bottom so the rack can stand upright. The sporting good store down the block was having a sale on hockey sticks because it was around May. When people come over to our apartment now, the first thing they ask is, “Did you build that?” And I have to explain that my dad never taught me how to build stuff because his father never taught him and I therefore didn't teach my son or daughter. In other words, we’re Jewish. In fact there was an incident in 2008 when my daughter graduated and moved into a shared apartment. We went to IKEA and I purchased bookshelves. I had a drill and mollies and proudly put the three shelves up over her desk. She put books and knick knacks on them and we stood back and admired them. That was on a Saturday. When she came home from work on Monday she told me it was a good thing she was at her job instead of at home because the entire thing had collapsed onto the desktop.
Back to the damn hockey rack. I had it made for me, okay? When my wife first moved in with me to a city apartment, she tolerated it. When she delivered our first child and moved to a suburban condo, she tolerated it. When we finally moved into our first and only house, she said, no way, not in here. And I said, well we need a coatrack so let’s just leave it here until we get a “real” coatrack. Approximately 30 years later, the kids were out of college and we downsized to an apartment, and she again was aghast at the prospect of the hockey sticks. Again I used the LJKUFRO technique: Let’s Just Keep it Until we Find a Real One. 11 years later it remains. But I had to pay for it. We’ve got a ton of throw pillows.
See you next week and have a great weekend,
Andy and John