Back when Ulysses Grant was President, my fiancé and I attended a - required by the church - weekend seminar called "Engagement Encounter." The idea was to improve the chances of marital success by having the couples engage in serious discussions about core issues - money, communication, in-laws, respect and so forth. We were posed questions that we answered in notebooks, then shared the answers with each other. Messages such as "please don't get fat," and "if you turn into a drunk my divorce attorney will gut you like a tuna." Such tenderness still causes me to tear up.
That was 41 years ago, and we have endured the usual travails of poverty, illness, shared domiciles, and, at times, inexplicable offspring. One reason for our enduring bond may be that we haven't spent all that much time together. There were 10 years of surgical residency in there, and after that 60 to 70-hour work weeks and weekends with call.
But what has become apparent is that Engagement Encounter completely missed the most rigorous stress test of all in a marriage.
Docking a boat.
To start with, we are now living 24/7 in about 250 square feet on a boat. I think we've done fine with that, as have many of you who have traveled or camped in RVs. But docking a boat is applying a blowtorch to the marital weld.
Imagine you are parking your truck. OK, now have the street moving while you are trying to back up. That's the tidal current, which will throw you down the dock into another boat real quick. Then throw in the wind, so that when you perfectly align the boat up to the slip in the dock, you aren't there anymore.
While I am at the controls, Pam is trying to throw lines to the guys on the dock, if there is any help. She will say "you are too close" and I will say "what side, front or back, port or starboard" and she will say "don't yell at me" and I will quote Corinthians where Paul says women should be silent, and what she says is not suitable for a wider audience, or even a narrow audience. After this major flail, and the boat is safely secured, there is a period of silent death stares in which accusatory thoughts hang like a cloud of acid rain.
We've gotten better with time. We got some headsets so that we can communicate without yelling. My docking technique, really the major source of the stress, has improved. Mostly. We have agreed to eliminate comments ("you have no ability to handle pressure") that do not directly contribute to the success of the docking. A little slip-up today.
On the photo with this article is the warning "alligators may live here." Ain't that the truth. In any meaningful relationship there are certainly alligators lurking. Money, jealousy, competition, control, kids, in-laws, sex, illness - there is a gator for everyone. The more intense the connection the greater the risks. Taking a boat trip around the Eastern United States creates tense situations, opportunities for humiliation and brews a perfect broth for disharmony.
But today we cruised through a lightly misted Carolina Coastal tableau of sun and sky and grasses and pines attended by dolphins and birds of all feathers. We've been from Key West to Beaufort, North Carolina and have been steeped in the beauty and the complicated history of the South. We've had some amazing experiences, which would not have been possible if we couldn't work together.
My idea is that to get a marriage license - if anybody still gets married - the couple would be required to take a boat docking class. Half of the couples would immediately break up, the half that would get divorced anyway. Divorce attorneys and wedding planners would lobby against the measure, but heartbreak would be confined to a few episodes of an affianced being tossed overboard.
Lifejackets would be required.
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