Pondering Marriage

Getting Married and Other Mistakes by Barbara Slate, this month's selection in my www.fromlefttowrite.com book club, is my first graphic novel. We would have called it a comic book in my generation but now there are complete books illustrated in this manner. If I were talented in the visual arts, I would do a graphic novel of how I met John Lynner Peterson. Alas, I am not, so what follows is the story in narrative. 

The story of how John and I met will give middle aged single women hope that the right person exists for all of us. For most of his career, John worked at the intersection of religion and media.  In 1998, John produced the Fiftieth Anniversary Party for the World Council of Churches in Zimbabwe at which Nelson Mandela spoke. Doug Smith, a young minister, who assisted him on this event said, “John, if you ever move into doing work on the Web, call me.” Within a few years, the Hallmark Channel hired John to start a website called faithandvalues.com. John thought the job required a move from Chicago to the Manhattan headquarters for this job. He then received the news that they had chosen to locate this venture in Lexington, Kentucky because of a random conversation that occurred on an airplane. (Are you getting the picture here about coincidences?) John responded, “You’re moving me where?” Familiar with Manhattan, he felt comfortable there. But Lexington, KY? He had never heard of the place.

  As requested, John called Doug and hired him to assist in development of the website. Lexington didn’t feel as strange to Doug since he had gone to seminary there and served Newtown Christian Church as Student Pastor. As the dominoes rolled, Doug hired Martha Johnston for faithandvalues.com, a young woman who attended his youth group at that congregation and had since graduated from college.

John, Doug and Martha busied themselves with a Web presence when one day a light bulb brightened above Martha’s head. She called me on a Monday at that same Newtown Christian Church where I served as her pastor. “Brenda, you need to meet the Vice President of our company.” Gutsy for a twenty-something to call her fiftyish pastor and suggest a hook-up.

“I’m game,” I replied. “I’m not dating anyone.”

Thursday evening of that week, my cell phone rang while I ate out with my sister. Martha initiated the conversation with, “Brenda, give me a pep talk. I know the timing is right because he’s still here and the work day is over but I’m nervous. I feel like I’m asking him out myself and he’s old enough to be my dad.”

“Martha, get your ass into his office. I’m not getting any younger!” (Ass is a biblically correct term.) So she did.

John emailed me and we made arrangements to meet on Saturday evening. But on Friday evening, as I sat around in day-old makeup, my sermon just finished, (see how exciting life is for single women in ministry) I decided to call the phone number in his email to confirm that I would meet him at the designated time and restaurant. I assumed I would get a voice mail since people with real lives go out on Friday evening. What a surprise when he answered his phone.

“I just wanted to make sure you received my email confirming tomorrow night,” I stammered.

            “Yes. But, hey, I haven’t eaten yet. Want to go get a bite to eat now?” he asked.

“I’ve already eaten but I will have a glass of wine while you eat.”

“Ok, let’s meet at Ramsey’s on High Street.”

I knew he was a Northerner, so I blurted out, “Don’t you Yankees pick your dates up?”

            A bare thirty minutes later, I had thrown on some walking shorts and was letting my dog do his business when John drove up and got out of the car.

            “Oh my god, you’re gorgeous!”

The photo Martha sent me so I could see him in advance!

            How could I not fall in love with a man who delivers that opener? I later learned his expectation could not have been much lower. Fifty-something unmarried minister translated to him as over-weight, hairy legs with a bit of hair on her upper lip, a few wild ones on her chin, no make-up, sensible shoes and a very no-nonsense hairstyle. He later apologized for his unflattering characterization of female clergy.

            After dinner and ice cream, we sat on my deck and sipped tequila until two in the morning. I had never “sipped tequila” in my life. We both knew that first night that this pairing felt ordained, serendipitous, divinely inspired and meant to be--take your choice; color your own dream. When John walked through a hallway of my house where I had hung photos of my life in the arts, he said, “I’ve been looking for you.” Our mutual love of a variety of the arts provides just one of the lenses through which we see each other. John’s genuine recognition of me satisfies an identity hunger at my core.


This post is inspired by Getting Married and Other Mistakes by Barbara Slate. This graphic novel offers a raw, yet humorous look at what happens to Jo after a surprise divorce. Join From Left to Write on Thursday, June 28 as we discuss Getting Married and Other Mistakes by Barbara Slate. I received a review copy of the and all opinions are my own.

Thanks www.fromlefttowrite.com for making me the featured writer today!

From Left to Write is a group of over 100 women bloggers. We are all bloggers on a vast range of topics, what binds us as Left to Write is the reading of books distributed to us and writing a post inspired by the book. Notice I say, “inspired by.” Our role is not to review the books given us.

Many times the author will do a Question and Answer interview on the home site a day before or day after our posts. Some authors even make it a point to comment on each of our blogs on the day their book inspires us.

A few of my favorites that we have reviewed are:

In Stitches by Dr. Anthony Youn

Room by Emma Donoghue

Tiny Sunbirds Far Away by Christi Watson

And my all-time favorite---so far---The Swam Thieves by Elizabeth Kostova

I could go on with this list because there are too many to list. Have we read some clunkers? Yes, but they, in their own dorky way, teach us about writing and about selecting books to read.

Thank you, From Left To Write, for making me the featured member today. It’s been fun being part of this great group of bloggers.   

Humor as Survival Tactic, a response to In Stitches by Dr. Anthony Youn

This book was given to me as part of my membership in From Left to Write, an online book club. This is not a review of the book but rather a response to the experience of reading it.

It has been years since I have laughed out loud while reading a book. In Stitches, Dr. Anthony Youn’s memoir of getting through medical school and residency garnered giggles, snickers, guffaws and belly laughs. Such laughter at bedtime, when I normally do my reading, makes for good sleep.

There is no question in my mind that Dr.Youn’s sense of humor got him through the uphill task of finishing medical school. I long ago identified humor as one of the values that contributes to my surviving and thriving. Below is the section on humor from my soon-to-be published memoir:

Claiming earned Frequent Flier miles becomes a skill equaled only to astrophysics or neurosurgery. Not being one to give up on hard earned freebies---there’s that persistence value again---I determined I would fight to the bitter end so as not to be robbed of my miles. I couldn’t get resolution on the phone or internet, so I concluded this merited a trip out to the airport. I walked up to the counter with no one else in sight except the ticket agent and me. The first words out of my mouth were, “I have had no sex---” The honest-to-god fact that I intended to say, “I have had no success---” meant nothing after the faux pax has escaped my lips. We were both laughing so hard, I barely get out my next words, “That’s true also, but that doesn’t happen to be your problem.”

I can’t help but feel my mispronunciation set the tone for this ticket agent being exceptionally willing to help me get to the bottom of my problem with Frequent Flier miles.

Dr. Norman Cousins' now legendary work on healing began by discovering that ten minutes of hearty belly laughs could provide him with two hours of pain free rest. In Head First, he states "scientific evidence is accumulating to support the biblical axiom that 'a merry heart doeth good like a medicine'".

My son Denny again comes to mind. As a child, he knew how to laugh, even at himself, better than most. At age thirteen, he asked to be dropped off at a girl's house after dinner---new behavior for my budding teenager. Now the word cool was invented for this boy. In his new, much longed for leather jacket, he strutted with the essence of junior high chic.  As he tells the story, everything went fine with the visit in spite of the fact that the girl's parents were much too present.  At the agreed upon time, I returned to pick him up and honked the horn. (God forbid that I should go to the door and let this young girl discover he had a mother.)  He quickly said his good bye. With one swift and graceful movement he picked up his new leather jacket from the floor and headed toward the door. As he placed his foot in the pocket, he impeded his forward progress and ripped a big tear in the most valued garment. Yes, he wanted to die and never have to face the young girl again. Instead, he told the rest of the family so we could all have a good laugh courtesy of our most cool family member.  He also made peace with having a beautifully repaired leather jacket.   

In contrast, folks who are not able to laugh at themselves make good targets for those of us who do. As noted earlier, Husband Number Three possessed unfortunate characteristics that made him a sitting duck for my junior high age sons to make fun of. We actually had to bring the subject up in family therapy. The therapist informed Dan forthrightly that when persons are not able to find humor in jokes about themselves, they make the perfect target for everyone else’s humor. The therapist actually complimented my sons on their ability to laugh at themselves.

Humor even boosts your immune system!