Boots, benches and marriage

On this random of days, I've decided to give some thought to the subject of marriage. Truthfully, it's been bouncing around my gray matter since July 31, 2004. Which also happens to be the day that I became married. Or got married. Or wound up married. I'm not quite sure of the appropriate verbage. But regardless, after 7+ years of dating or courtship or just general feet-dragging, it all came to an end.

But did it really? End, I mean. No of course not. In fact, being married is pretty darn fun. So as sort of a tribute to the last couple of years of married life, I thought I'd spin a tale. A tale of boots and benches.

I got engaged on a park bench down by the river. It was at the close of a short run that Kate and I did together. Funny thing is, we didn't start out together but somehow ended up running down Market Street, though on opposite sides. Well at least I was running; I think Kate is more of a fast walker.

Anyway, the odd thing about this moment is that I wasn't supposed to get engaged. Nope. Not on a bench. Not by the river. Not after a run. It was supposed to happen the day before. Except, well, to be honest, I forgot. Really, it just slipped my mind. Which of course must sound cold and callous but it's really not like that. See about a day before I had just returned from boot camp. Eight weeks of mostly boys, lots of sweat, weird smells and strange customs and courtesies. After eight weeks of this sort of thing, the mind tends to go into standby mode; you operate on a script of sorts, without much thought from one moment to the next. Upon being released, it took some time to shake this strangeness off. And herein lies the problem: I was going to ask the day after I came home. But I was still stricken with the boot camp mentality - still waking up at 6am, still marching wherever I went and still standing with my heels clicked together. Proposing was certainly not part of the script.

And so I forgot. I was at the drive-in, just outside of Danville PA. Enjoying myself immensely - the freedom, the phone call to my mom, the slightly stale popcorn that I enjoy so much that only the drive-in has. And it never entered my mind.

I don't quite remember when I realized that I forgot. Maybe it was that evening; or maybe it was early the next morning. But sure enough, I did realize my error. And what an error it was - an error of omission, really. Part of the forgetting was also remembering that I had written a letter to a Mr. Jesberg. Which just so happens to be Kate's dad. And I asked permission, you know, to get married. He, of course, approved (and who wouldn't?).

Regardless of when I remembered that I forgot, I recall going on that morning run. Because I was still on the military schedule, it was an early one. Maybe around 6 or 7am. Kate, initially reluctant, was apparently inspired by get-up-an-go. And so she got-up-and-went, chasing me down through the town a short while after I began.

After I stepped off my postage-stamp of a porch, my mind began to churn, thinking about this whole proposal thing. Maybe I should just skip it? Maybe I should just wait a little longer. I mean, it's only been 7.5 years. What's another few months? Another year?

In some weird twist of fate, we ended up on that road - Market Street. The one that splits the town basically in half. It's a pretty road, wide and lined with old houses and older trees. It's the one that leads to the park. And at the park we sat on the bench and looked out over the river. It was early and quiet and we were fairly well on our own except for maybe some ducks.

After some time passed, I blurted: "So you want to get married or what?"

That's really how it came out, word for word. Before I fully understood what I was about to say - before it registered that I'd even uttered them - the words were indeed hanging out there. Kate was clearly stunned. She looked at me, unsure of whether to imagine this as a joke or if that really was a clumsy version of a proposal.

"For real?" was her reply. "I don't have a ring or anything, I mean I just got home."

I figured after all these years, lacking a ring wouldn't stop the forward progress. It didn't. On the walk home, apparently I questioned whether marriage was right for me. But Kate, to her credit, took it in stride. Never flinched or doubted. Not quite sure why; I imagine I might've if the roles were switched.

And that brings us to today, married for a little over two years. It is fun. Darn fun. I imagine like most other things in life, much depends on those involved. I think Kate and I make a fine pair, mostly because I think I'm a little on the difficult side and mostly because I think Kate is on the forgiving side. I think too that much of life is about those seemingly unimportant choices that you make on any given Sunday. Choices that you think are irrelevant. But after looking back on things, you realize just how important they are. Imagine if Kate decided to stay in bed and not go for a run? It seemed irrelevant at the time, but yet it set in motion a chain of events that leads to me sitting here typing these thoughts.

Imagine.

See you on the pavement.