M*I*N*E*

Usual Spring sunny Sunday morning has begun. Woke up in a sweat from the same topic of dreams – the unsolvable problem. After a cup of coffee and some fruit, the silliness of the internet, a repeat of “This American Life”, strap on the jeans that must be replaced soon and pull out on the road. The spots of cracks are evident with water edges like broken glass. These will be the next potholes. The wobble in the back tire hasn’t gone away so I guess I’ll take her in for a spring checkup then get some new jeans.

Been going through my past five years of blogging looking for trends and subjects. There have been many phases, but I see some recurring themes and have been thinking about them.

But the real thought of the morning was a phrase a friend sent in a note about his wife saying: “Them or me”. He was discussing a statement that has probably been made by many couples, but it hit a nerve for me.

From what I understand about dating and becoming a boyfriend/girlfriend is the commitment to one another to only date each other. The deal is often sealed with a ring or pin or necklace. There is a certain security in such dating, but it can also mean some tough encounters when another person tries to cut in. “She’s mine!” can be a battle cry.

Have you ever noticed the lyrics of songs? “I’m gonna make her mine.” Or “She’ll be mine tonight.” Or “Will you be mine.” What does not mean?

Mine usually means that someone has acquired something for his or her personal collection. Mine means the item belongs to one as a valuable possession. Mine defines ownership of the property or a state of being controlled. 

When you are dating or even in engagement, you don’t transfer money for possession. Well there might be a dowry but that is just an offer to secure the deal. The groom asks the bride’s father for her hand, but intends to get the entire body. And the bride’s family will pay for the wedding ceremony but that is perhaps a deal to get her from under their house on the promise that the groom will pay future housing, clothing, meals, transportation, education, security and bedding. Maybe the groom doesn’t realize what the cost will eventually be.

The marriage license and ceremony with verbal promises of devotion to one another symbolized with an exchange of rings, recognition by the commonwealth, and sharing of the last name should guarantee that she is “mine” and I am “yours”. Doesn’t always work out that way.

Our species, no matter what security we need to retain a mate, is always wandering. We explore new places and meet others in our travels. We are always looking for something better and appreciate any attention along the way. Our moral dilemma is to decide how we use our freedom when apart from our partner or how we live in the missionary position forever.

And now here is a story about being “mine”. Do you remember the last episode of M*A*S*H? I’m talking about the television series not the movie. The movie I saw in a theatre then went off to climb a mountain under certain chemical influence. The television series started in the seventies and ended in the early 80’s. Out of habit or just the good writing and acting I watched it through the first divorce, the times alone, and into a second marriage.

As the story goes, the last episode was going to be a big event. This was going to be as big as “Who Shot J.R.?” or “Luke and Laura’s wedding”. That shows how much television was being watched in this house. After the seven o’clock M*A*S*H show I pretty well turned off my interest or went back to work writing reports and schedules and budgets.

But M*A*S*H was a constant for my girlfriend/wife and me so with a lot of time on her hands, she planned a special event.

When I opened the door after a long day of work, the entire house had been transformed into a 1950’s Korean War military camp. The 4077 had moved into my living room.

Sheets and blankets had been attached to the ceiling draping across to resemble tents. My old wooden WWII footlocker was the dining table. Flashlights and candles brought the mood lighting down. The coat tree was covered in signs and any other reference she could assemble was placed around the living room.

A change of cloths into a white sweatshirt with paper letters of M*I*N*E were pinned to the front. Even cardboard dog tags stating I was hers and she was “mine” had to be worn. It was very sweet and unusual and kind of freaked me out.

I learned later just how much the word “mine” would mean, but by then lost contact with former and present friends and only had communication with others at work. A relationship requires a lot of attention and time and as it progresses, there is not enough to give to others. Perhaps this is the price we pay?

“Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen”.