“Hey Curmudge, in your postings about people, are you trying
to be some sort of psychologist?”
It certainly doesn’t fit your résumé.”
“No way, Julie.
I’m just a storyteller—sort of a Caucasian Uncle Remus. Our posting on Companion
Qualities was just common sense, and the one on Brain
Health for Young and Old was based on a hyperlink to great research by
Barbara Fredrickson on the characteristics
of love.”
“Okay Uncle Curmudge, what’s today’s story?”
“Well, Swifty, if you had taken a moment to read the title,
you would know that it’s about two very different people, a scholar and an
adventurer. And by the story’s
conclusion we’ll realize that these people aren’t as different as we originally
believed.”
“Sit there in your rocking chair, Old Guy, and tell your
story. If it stops rocking I’ll
know that your peripheral neuropathy is no longer just peripheral.”
“Mary was attractive and intelligent, and even in high
school, was devoted to her profession, her family, and her church. In college she joined one of the best
sororities and dated guys from the right fraternities, one of whom
characterized her as ‘spoiled.’
Nevertheless, her profession dominated her activities.”
“I trust that Mary was not the adventurer in our story.”
“Right. That
was Joe. He canoed in bad weather;
ice skated on a big lake in view of open water, and ran rapids—alone—in a
small, inflatable boat. When he
saw a mountain, his first thought was, ‘How can I get to the summit?’ “
“In my opinion, some of that approached the extreme side of
adventure.”
“To get to the point, ma
chère, Mary and Joe attended the same college and were married the week
after she graduated. Somehow, Mary
and Joe knew intuitively about Barbara Fredrickson’s characteristics of love
before she wrote them. By the time
their children were in high school and college, Mary had become sufficiently
daring to travel alone to Paris to study for a month. And she didn’t speak any French.”
“Wow! She had
really moved up on the ‘adventurous’ scale.”
“And while she was there she successfully discouraged an
attempt at seduction by a Frenchman who spoke excellent English.”
“I perceive, Curmudge, that adventure can be fun when you
initiate it but not when you attract
it.”
“In subsequent years, Mary and Joe took many separate
vacations. She went to Europe, and
he went hiking and even technical climbing in the Rockies. His adventures were low key with
excellent guides, and he learned that one must climb on good rock and with good
people and good rope.”
“I’ve got it, Professor. Mary and Joe’s scholarly and adventurous spirits converged,
possibly because they learned to trust one another to do the right thing.”
“In later years they went to Europe together where she
looked into every cathedral they encountered and he practiced foreign languages
and took day hikes in the Alps.
And as Mary and Joe aged they took cruises on most of the rivers in
Western Europe.”
“You can’t kid me, Old Guy. This time I’ve really got it. You, Curmudge, are Joe, and Mrs. Curmudgeon was Mary. You gave it away when you mentioned
foreign languages and river cruises.
And you proved that some differences can converge and stay converged for
52 years. But some differences are
so great as to be nonreconcilable.
For example, I’d bet that Mrs. Curmudgeon wouldn’t have stayed married
to a septic tank cleaner or a pig farmer.”
“Well, she kept me
even when I lived 2,000 miles away and only came home once a month.”
“Sure, but if she had been married to a septic tank cleaner,
it would have been on the condition that he lived 2,000 miles away and never came home.”
“Julie, you win.
You always win. But that’s
because we reconciled our differences over 300 postings ago.”
Kaizen Curmudgeon
Link to posting from blog archives: Sepsis 2—diagnosis, management—9/07/11