MY TOGETHERNESS: HOW IT STARTED, HOW IT’S GOING

My togetherness started in my mom’s backyard with the girl in the blue summer dress, the one she wore when I first saw her.

We seemed to get along okay in NW Portland, so I took a flier and had her meet the family.

Everyone was in Eugene for my granddad’s visit from Texas.

My eyes weren’t shut all day, her’s were open all day.

It was the last time we were all together and they liked my girl. That sold me.

One of my rules at the time was who would, or wouldn’t, meet the family.

If they wanted to, we went. If not, we didn’t.

None of the approval, the hope that things work out, none of the worry.

You can do all of that with your eyes shut? Yes, you can.

That’s how it started.

 

How It’s Going

The bride and groom standing under a big top tent in the rain, Sandy, Oregon.

First I was going to wear a jean jacket.

Then a leather coat, a borrowed suit, a shirt and tie, until finally this:

The same style of morning suit Prince Charles wore for his wedding to Diana.

 

The Man Who Would Be King? My Togetherness

This is me graduating from college before my kids.

Checked that box.

Probably 1991.

When people ask, “What did you do in the nineties for fun,” this is my answer.

When anyone asks what I do for fun now?

Same answer.

If these guys are around I’m having a fun day.

 

My togetherness isn’t the same as yours, but it’s a blueprint.

Find someone who tolerates you, someone you like being around, someone who makes you better.

Try not to drive them off with the defective parts of your personality. You know the parts? Those parts.

The blame part, the victim part, the cheated part. Those parts.

How did my girl handle herself the first time she met my family, met my granddad?

Like a pro.

Somehow they found out she was a naturopathic doctor. I might have said something?

Granddad started explaining his bowel movements to her.

Either he was trying to gross her out, or he knew more about naturopaths than he let on.

He lit the fuse and got the full spectrum of digestion from an expert, along with recommending stool softeners and drinking more water.

Granddad looked a little overwhelmed.

It was Sunday, a football game was on, and the old man was trapped by his own sassiness since my girl showed no signs of letting up.

After he’d had enough, he thanked her and asked the question all of Texas asks during the NFL season.

You know the question: “How ‘Bout Those Cowboys.”

Well, Granddad, the wife and I are doing better than those Cowboys these days.

And I’m the Granddad now.