Runnels: Congenial marriage

The divorce rate is pretty high, so my advisors tell me, and I don’t know why. It’s really easy to live a married life if you do just two things—use common sense and do everything you’re told—sometimes.

You see, I know, because the bride and I have been bound in holy wedlock longer than I like to think. The other mornin’, when she was havin’ coffee in bed, she, like usual, started tellin’ me what I was doin’ wrong.

“First thing right off is that you’re spendin’ too much time at the waterholes. That stuff ain’t good for you and it will kill you after it makes you fat.”

“And smokin’—you smoke way too much. What happened to that staple in your ear? Them cigarettes are goin’ to kill you. When are you goin’ to stop?” “Yes, dear.”

“That bucket of hog lard you bought down at the store the other day—dump it. You know you’re goin’ to have to start watchin’ your cholesterol level at your age. That hog lard and them eggs are goin’ to put you away.” “Yes, dear.”

“Get me another cup of coffee.” “Yes, dear.”

I can see it all now. She’s goin’ to be in one of them 747’s honkin’ her way to China to give out Bibles.

She don’t smoke, she don’t drink, her cholesterol level is point zero and all at once that big jet explodes in mid air—no survivors except the words of the Bible.

I’ll hear this little voice from way up high sayin’ , “That hog lard is goin’ to kill you.”

You know, I’m a lucky man. I have a wife that I can’t find anything wrong with and here she is stuck with me and all my faults. I think the biggest problem in the forseeable future is my hearin’.

You see, when I lose this last twenty five percent of my hearing I could be in deep trouble and say, “Yes, dear,” when I should say, “No, dear,” because I don’t understand the question or command.

Can you just picture this? The poor little ugly thing will be standin’ in front of the mirror and ask me, “Do you think I’m gettin’ fat?”

I can’t hear, so I think she’s askin’ for another cup of coffee, and say, “Yes, dear.”

Now, boys, I don’t care if your cute little wife tips the scales at a mere three hundred and sixty five pounds. If she asks if you think she’s getting’ fat, you’d better say, “No, dear—that is, if you want to live and do well.

We just celebrated our twenty-seventh anniversary and never had a fight the entire evening. Of course, I was celebratin’ down at the Owl’s Head and she was in St Louis, Peking, Chicago or someplace.

Courtesy of Tom Runnels Publications. Copyrighted and Registered by Tom Runnels and Saundra Runnels Revocable Trust. Printed in The Banner Press: September 22, 1988.