15. Neatness
I remember a laughing conversation Susan and I had well before we were married. Susan mentioned her mother’s sage advice: “Always wear clean underwear; you never know when you are going to be in a car accident.” My immediate (unexpressed) thought was that I might have HAD clean underwear, but….”
In any event, it serves as a reminder not only of mid-western wisdom, but also that we are each conscious of the fictions we maintain and wary of being found out. We live public lives different in more or less serious ways from our private ones. We are each conscious of how we will be viewed/judged by others.
Susan used to always keep the house relatively “picked up”. (Neatness is a common human fiction.) She did this as a matter of routine, of habit, I think at least in part because she was aware that someone might drop by. I on the other hand was oblivious. Why? Was it just my slovenliness? Maybe, but I think it was also that (in this regard at least) I lived in a “blame free zone”. Had someone in fact dropped by, the mess would not have reflected badly on me (its maker) but rather, unfairly, on Susan (its “unmaker”).
I am aware of this now because the mess, were I to allow it to persist, would reflect on ME.
I have gained a similar awareness about entertaining. Are these cups right? This teapot? Would cookies be appropriate? Nuts? Wine? Etc..
Recently I was present at of lovely meeting of “Bridges” (a woman’s group Susan founded in San Diego and which happily persists to this day). The meeting was at Jane’s house. I was the only male (except for Richard, Jane’s husband, who kindly assumed car-parking duty — complete with tags for each set of car keys.)
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These Bridges members are each remarkable, accomplished ladies. They enjoyed Susan and discovering through her other impressive women.
In any event, that late-afternoon “Tea” was an occasion for me to reflect on how I have changed/evolved since Susan’s death.
Now, occasionally being a host myself, I was aware of the fine, ivory and blue, china cups, the small folded cloth napkins, the tasteful (in both senses) snacks. I was also aware of how beautifully each of the women was dressed — and was silently relieved that I had worn appropriate clothes.
Susan used to always take care of my clothing choices with a consciousness that they reflected on San Diego State. Of course, they also (again unfairly) reflected on her. I am still occasionally being complimented on a sweater or a sport coat to which I inevitably respond, “Susan chose it.”
Why do I burden you with these reflections? Because they lead to another one. It is a cliché to suggest that a widow/widower is diminished by the death of a mate. In many ways that is true, but in many other ways one grows, becomes more aware, develops new capacities/abilities that were formerly not needed because one’s partner handled them. (E.g. entertaining, cooking, laundry, neatening up the house ….)
I have not shrunk after Susan’s death; I have grown.
Perhaps that is still another gift she has given me.
