November 3, 2006
Matched
CP and I might not seem an all-that-oddly matched Mr and Mrs, being a librarian and a parson. But as I read somewhere about another pairing, ours is not just a marriage, it’s an adventure that includes a marriage and a two-person cultural exchange program. She’s a midwesterner. I’m a Texan. She’s opera. I’m jazz. Only she’s more jazz than I’m opera, and she’s a real musician. I’m a cornet player.
In an effort to shape up this cultural exchange, I just finished my first two days as a preschooler in her rehab program that she’s been at for nearly two years. One of the trainers greeted me right off, “Trying to catch up?”
What could I say? Actually not a lot, for I was already out of breath and hardly able to get from the stationary bike to the rowing machine. “Cool down” meant, I thought, a comfortable chair and a doughnut. It was instead “three laps before the next event.”
It’s been a while and a few pounds since Uncle Sugar’s naval aviation cadet jock-o preflight training. But my memory’s not so geriatrophied that I can’t recall all the similarities. I suppose I might be grateful that there’re still enough organic processes and phenomena left in place and in reasonably proper order to lever back into shape. I’m on my way, but I sure hate to be a sore winner.
Non-seq: We’re off today to PB-elect Katharine’s big whoopdedoo at the National Cathedral Saturday and Sunday. I’ll be reporting to you from the South Transept where I’ll be embedded in the liturgical two-step with all those big-time press worthies. Watch the headlines.