In her book, Committed, Elizabeth Gilbert discusses the Marriage Benefit Imbalance. "Married men live longer than single men; married men accumulate more wealth than single men; married men excel at their careers above single men, married men are far more likely to die a violent death than single men; married men report themselves to be much happier than single men; and married men suffer less from alcoholism, drug addiction and depression than do single men."
"Dishearteningly," Elizabeth writes, "the reverse is not true." Married women don't live as long as single women, don't accumulate as much wealth, don't thrive in their careers as well as single women do, are significantly less healthy than single women, and we're much more likely to die a violent death than single women -- usually at the hands of a husband.
I'm confident that Brad would never hurt me but I'm also sure that marriage has not made me a better person. For every personal sacrifice I've made, I lug behind me about 10 suitcases bulging with bitterness and regret. They take up all the rooms in our house. And our house is big. Yet I am the person who has made the decisions that have carried our lives so off-track. Adopting twins from a family that clearly has some sort of mental disorder -- now there's a recipe for certain unhappiness. Moving us all to Gilroy, effectively cutting us off from every friend we have. WTF?????
So the question becomes -- how to steer together with Brad so life feels hopeful again instead of sitting here in Gilroy waiting to be hit by yet another loss in a long series of failures and bad choices.
I'm thinking about all this when we go to Becca and Allyn's house for a surprise party for Suzie. Becca and Allyn's house is a bungalow, in a neighborhood that is a long way from gentrification. They give us the tour, the huge cellar with a wine press in one corner; a high ceiling that -- when they tore down the low, rough ceiling that hid it -- showed the scorch marks of a long-ago fire. There is something about Becca and Allyn in this house -- their simple happiness at creating a place that is theirs that reminds me it's not so simple to say no to love, to a first house, to companionship, to children. We want those things. We think... we hope our family life will be free of the upheavals, the despair, the violence and fear that marked the low points in our own childhoods. How dim-witted am I to think our family life could possibly be free of upheavals? Life is upheaval.
I think about this as we wait for Suzie and Steven to arrive. Suzie comes through the door, and all of us, 50 people, jump out and yell "surprise" at her. Suzie is shocked. She covers her face with both hands, and stands in the doorway not moving, then she shows her face again and laughs, clearly at a loss. Later, when the color is back in her face, we stand to one side talking.
"Do you like surprises?," I ask her. She grimaces, tilts her head, shrugs, makes an "eh" sound, and laughs. "Your daughter," I say, and what I love about Suzie is we speak without words. That Becca admires her mom and loves her and arranged this party to show how highly she thinks of Suzie, how much Suzie means to her. And Suzie, maybe, in those first seconds when she walked through the door, would have preferred a quieter Valentine's Day with Becca and Allyn, Steven and Rachel, but as the party moves through Becca and Allyn's house, the kids all tooting on their glittery party-favor horns, there is only good will and peace and community and the love between a mother and a daughter.
Steven, who has helped Becca and Allyn lay the wonderful dark red and yellow checkerboard kitchen floor, is in back, manning the barbecue, turning turkey burgers. And the table shows how this group knows Suzie because the turkey burgers are the only meat in sight: there is a carrot salad that practically glows it's so orange, and a salad of pristinely tender Little Gems lettuce leaves, a lentil salad with incredibly ethereal feta, and the most beautiful plate of asparagus, and even a salad of shaved Brussels sprouts and almonds. And an enormous bowl of potato salad that Becca has made. I have three helpings of that potato sald and even take a fourth helping with me for the long drive home.
And I think about weathering the upheavals, using whatever means you have: meditation or religion, yoga or Feldenkrais, travel or singing or reading or whatever gets you through the really bad patches. So you can be there on those radiant days when the love shines clear.
copyright 2010 Ann Krueger Spivack
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