“Dear Jon, ” wrote Julius in a friend-to-friend e-mail yesterday.
“I’ve read all of your books and love your blog. I am disturbed by a trend I see, though. You seem to do everything Maria does. She likes succulents; you like succulents. She loves trees. You love trees. She loves to garden; you start a garden. She likes colorful clothes; you like colorful clothes. She rescues spiders and moths; you rescue spiders and moths. She wears multi-colored socks, and now you do . Wassup? I worry you are being taken over without even knowing it. I had a wife like that, and after a while, I forgot who I was.”
I felt bad for Julius. And I don’t wish to forget who I am, although lately, I sometimes do.
Well, I can’t accuse Julius of being one of those nasty social media trolls; he is a loyal reader and seems to have my best interests at heart. And let’s face it, he wasn’t just blowing smoke out of his ass, as my friend Julz would say.
He had a lot of examples. And at various times, I have referred to Maria as Wonderwoman, Tarzana, and a Willa Cather girl. Those are powerful women; each one is capable of being a Matriarch.
At breakfast this morning at a local diner, I read the message aloud to Maria.
She smiled but didn’t immediately reply.
“Is Bedlam Farm a matriarchy now?” I asked, taking a forkful of blueberry almond pancakes into my mouth. I was relieved to see that Maria was eating a waffle, not a blueberry almond pancake.
Things haven’t gotten that bad.
“Well,” said Maria, “I do a lot of things that you do. You had a blog; I have a blog, you had sheep, now I have sheep. You write every day; now I write every day? Does that mean the farm is patriarchy and you are a patriarch?
Then a pause, “don’t eat the bacon,” she said. “It’s greasy.” I put the bacon down.
For a minute, I thought we were going to have a patriarch-matriarch fight.
I counted up the things I did that she did first and the things she does that I did first. But I lost count.
“You probably need to get change,” she said when the bill came.
“No,” I said, “I have the change.”
“No,” she said, “I don’t think you do.”
I needed the change.
I decided to shift gears.
“I think this is a cross-pollination thing,” I said, “not a matriarch thing.’
She looked dubious. Maria likes to come across as sweet, even meek, but I can tell when she’s getting pissed, and it isn’t pretty. She’s about as meek as Joanne Rivers.
“What does that mean?” she asked, taking another bite of the waffle. I started looking for a way out; I didn’t see a path to a happy ending to this conversation.
Then, she asked, “tell me more about your cross-pollination theory. It’s growing on me.”
Well,” I said, “my idea is that we have cross-pollinated one another, never dominated one another. You’ve taken things from me; I’ve taken things from you.”
“No one tells the other what to do. You took some blog and writing lessons and also became a photographer. I am learning about nature, color, love food, patience, art, museums, carpentry, gardening, painting, and all kinds of plants and trees from you. We take the good stuff from each other and ignore the bad.”
Then I added: “The truth is, we are so close and love each other so much that I’m not sure we can always separate what came from where!”
I went back to eating my pancake, waiting for her to digest what I said.
She was smiling now.
“I like that,” I said. “Maybe in ten years, the two of us will morph into one nature-loving, creative, quilt-making, loud-mouthed, spider-rescuing blogger.”
“But what should I tell poor Julius?” I said, finishing the pancake and eager to move on. “Maybe I should suggest some multi-colored socks?”
She sighed. “How can you stand those social media people? Tell him to mind his own business.”
There it was. I’m not sure I need to know who I am as long as Maria does.
After 34 years my husband and I have definitely ‘cross-pollinated’, and now I love that term. You could do worse, I did, with my first one! ☺️
Some men are easily worried about the wisdom of women. You are not one of them. Good for you.
Thank you, once I discovered the importance of finding smart women and listening to them, my life has turned around and in a good way. I’ll never go back… This time I found the real thing..
Jon, I absolutely LOVE that photo of Maria. Here are the things I love about it: the different colored walls; the little plants on the window sills; the colorful pillows and quilt; the dog (he’s gotten so big!) in Maria’s lap; the books piled everywhere; that oh-so-comfortable chair; Maria’s colorful outfit; how relaxed and happy she looks. There’s just something completely perfect about this portrait of your wife…. It’s a keeper forever.
She’s the Queen of the farm…
Love the texture of this photo
Ha, made me laugh! But seriously, you’re two very independent spirits who share this unbreakable bond yet give each other the freedom to be yourselves. Love the cross-pollination idea! Nice blog for Independence Day weekend.
Okay Jon…I think I would only get worried if you decided to join the belly dancing group! Although, I’m sure you’d give it your all and look really, really cute in one of the outfits! 🙂 🙂 🙂
Yes, if I order zills watch…the thought of my in a belly dancing skirt could send a lot of readers scurrying for the exit….:)
Nah, don’t sweat it…your faithful readers are used to you trying new things! 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂
Spectacular! Although…..I see that Maria is sitting in an easy chair, with a book in hand, her feet up and a dog in her lap; the exact same circumstances evidenced in many of your own self-portraits! (aghast) Am I a victim of a blogiarchy if I find myself doing the same?! It being a pretty darn comfortable, entertaining and companionable position to find oneself in. Who wouldn’t want to partake in and grow to enjoy a great number of the things that the person you love most in the worlds does? I mean, you ARE each still performing your own separate endeavors. May I suggest a switch-up by having Maria drive Moise & Jacob GPS-free throughout the Adirondacks, while you take her place at belly-dancing class?
Jon…
Your post is very perceptive. Over 50 years’ time, we have visited this issue. We have differences in our rearing, our backgrounds, our strong points and our faults. We discuss what we might consider as faults, and try to understand why we do things differently. We remain free in our opinions and sometimes express them bluntly.
Our compliments are sparser because, when someone acts the way we expect, we assume it’s correct.
But I have noticed some cross-pollination. To emulate a mate’s ways is, itself, a tacit compliment. It acknowledges that the companion has adopted an improved approach, and shows respect for that knowledge, practice, or judgment.
After living together, we do start to become alike. But only to a point. She’s not becoming a baseball fan, and I’m not watching game shows.
The photo of Maria is great! You might entitle it “Queenie.”
OH, JON! HOW YOU BRIGHTEN MY DAY!!! I laughed till tears blurred my vision and I could no longer see clearly how GORGEOUS Maria looks in purple and orange!
🙂
Jon, what’s wrong with an almond blueberry pancake?! 😉 Ask them to do it in a waffle maker next time and voila, a non-skid, almond blueberry pancake. I like the almond flour creations Myra makes — pancakes, muffins, bread, cookies, etc. She’s looking out for my health and she’s better at that than I am. I’m glad to see Maria is watching over you also!!
We loved the conversation between two independently wonderful peopled who definitely complement one another. That’s what good spouse should be.
Wishing you many more years of happiness!
Wonderful blog. I especially enjoyed the Maria’s comments at the end!
Happy 4th of July!