Old Ball and Chain, OJ

by Gordon Robinson

Old BC again gave me the Spanish Archer ('El Bow'); sat in my chair; and wrote:

"On Friday, the twoth of March, Old Grey Balls and I celebrated 30 years of wedded bliss. Well, he celebrated. I was busy considering the National Honours Committee's offer of OJ for my lifetime ordeal.

He's written ('Being one' published on our 28th anniversary), from his perspective, about that day, 30 years ago, when I foolishly plighted him my troth. He keeps saying he rescued me from permanent maidenhood. Truth was, he couldn't buy companionship with his so I took pity.

"And solitaire's the only game in town.

And every road that takes him, takes him down.

And by himself, it's easy to pretend he'll never love again.

And keeping to himself he plays the game.

Without her love it always ends the same.

While life goes on around him everywhere he's playing solitaire."

I should've seen what was coming when he was late for the wedding. Can you imagine? Anyway, finally, he arrived. We were off and running.

"We've only just begun to live

White lace and promises;

A kiss for luck and we're on our way .... ."

Wedded bliss?

His lame excuse about needing a last-minute replacement 'Best Man' cut no dash with me. He'll be late for his funeral. He's clueless regarding time or space.

Don't get me started on space. My first priority was clearing out the clutter of his old (vinyl) records and comics. He'd been collecting records since 500 BC and comics from Marvel Comics began. Our home's dust quotient was higher than Dean Martin's lungs'. Since then, he's stubbornly replenished his record collection but, thank God, not the comics.

He still grumbles about it. "I'd be rich," he bemoans believing the comics are worth a fortune. He's conveniently forgotten that the only place they could be sold is Riverton City dump, where dust futures are always on the rise.

Anyway, that's how I made space to beautify our home with orchids. Not according to Old GB. He gripes daily: "I feel like Tarzan in my own home!" Out of respect for the institution of marriage, I resist responding, "More like Cheetah, Dear!" It's said marriage is an institution and love is blind. One look at Old GB proves I should be in an institution for the blind.

His favourite indoor sport is ignoring my advice, which resulted in his accepting a public-sector post twice in the 1990s. Worse, first time around, he worked for free. FREE! Can you believe it? Anyway, I knew it wouldn't be long before some politician annoyed him. Sure enough, each time, he stormed out in a huff after two years.

He's like that. I remember us taking the children for a weekend at Boscobel Beach (a 50-plus-mile drive) to attend Sashi on the Sunday. The check-in process took forever (they were 'checking' his credit card) while tourists were ushered in. "I have a yard!" was his Parthian shot as the car sped away in a cloud of dust and we were returned home.

The real boss

In all this, who kept the family together? Who balanced household budgets with little coming in and regular outgoings to feed slow horses? Who entertained his instructing attorneys and friends at a moment's notice? Who transported children to school, extra lessons, extra-curricular activities, social events? Who did the banking; shopping; dealing with tradesmen? Moi.

Who played with expensive toys and engaged in profound discussion regarding the likely winner of the day's first race? You guessed it.

"Through the years,

when everything went wrong,

together we were strong.

I know that I belong

right here with you.

Through the years,

I never had a doubt.

We'd always work things out.

I've learned what love's about

by loving you through the years."

Namesake Karen (Carpenter) and Kenny Rogers are two favourites. Karen, born on our anniversary (March 2), blessed with a beautiful voice (and a brilliant musical director brother, Richard), sang inspirational romantic songs. She died tragically at 32; an early anorexia nervosa victim. Kenny Rogers, happily married to Marianne (but touring with Dolly Parton), was electric during the 1980s.

Old GB, always the show-off, insists I tell you Solitaire was written by Neil Sedaka and Phil Cody; We've Only Just Begun by Paul Williams and Roger Nicholls; and Through The Years by Marty Panzer and Stephen Dorff.

Yep, I've been through plenty with Old GB. I think I deserve this OJ thingy. I'm off to write my acceptance letter."

Peace and love.

Gordon Robinson is an attorney-at-law. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com.