The Marriage Book (20 page)

Mike, you know better than many what an unhappy home is and what it can do to others. Now you have a chance to make it come out the way it should. There is no greater happiness for a
man than approaching a door at the end of a day knowing someone on the other side of that door is waiting for the sound of his footsteps.

Love,

Dad

P.S. You’ll never get in trouble if you say “I love you” at least once a day.

FRANK MULA

“THE LAST TEMPTATION OF HOMER,”
THE SIMPSONS
, 1993

Despite his numerous shortcomings, Homer Simpson, the creation of cartoonist Matt Groening, manages to stay faithful to his wife, Marge. In the animated television series—the longest-running ever—Homer’s greatest temptation comes in the shapely form of coworker Mindy Simmons. When the two attend a convention at the Capital City Plaza Hotel (“Legionnaires’ Disease–Free since 1990”), they are shown their rooms by a bellhop.

MICHELLE OBAMA

EBONY
INTERVIEW, 2006

Future U.S. president Barack Obama was still a freshman senator, and future first lady Michelle Obama (1964–) was still a hospital executive when she offered this comment in an interview titled “Not Just the Senator’s Wife.”

[I’m not worried about] some other woman pushing up on my husband. I never worry about things I can’t affect, and with fidelity—that is between Barack and me, and if somebody can come between us, we didn’t have much to begin with.

BLOGGERS

“IS FACEBOOK A CYBER THREAT TO YOUR MARRIAGE?,” 2010

Full Marriage Experience
is a blog written by Jason and Kelli Krafsky with an upbeat Christian perspective. In 2009, the couple posted advice about how to avoid some of the real-life marital threats that Facebook relationships were creating. The post was widely circulated, and these were some of the comments that later appeared in response to it.

In 2012, according to a British survey of divorce lawyers, the word
Facebook
had been mentioned in a third of the divorce cases filed the previous year. The ellipses are the author’s.

ROSE
: My husband and I have been married for 36 years. One year ago he was contacted by an old friend and neighbor on facebook. They became “friends” and started chatting. At first I was not concerned as she lives in New Zealand and we live in S. Africa. I soon became concerned at the time my husband spent chatting to her, supposedly about “old times.” I picked up photos/cards and messages they sent to each other and approached him kindly saying it was hurting me and felt that he was becoming far too familiar for my liking. She was in a unhappy marriage and enjoyed his flattery and sweet talk. Then the sms’s began followed by a daily phone call. Then the e-mails to and from his work address started. I was devastated. To cut a long story short we separated as a result. He was away from home for 5 months and during this time they became even more acquainted. After 5 months he came home and promised me it was all over and he was home for good. I later discovered that she had flown out to S. Africa and they had spent a three week holiday together. They had also got engaged and planned to get married. Well things went downhill from there and he moved out once again. He has since flown to New Zealand twice to be with her and we are busy with divorce proceedings. My heart is broken and at the moment I hate face book. If boundaries are not put in place and adhered to this will be the result.

MIKE
: It’s the same story on my end. My wife joined Facebook and was spending an incredible amount of time reconnecting with old friends and reading and sharing posts. Then, she found one of her high school sweethearts from 22 years ago. And yes, they were soon involved in an emotional affair. On May 17, 2010, she informed me that she wanted out of the marriage because she was involved with someone else. I soon discovered who he was and that it started with FB. She moved out and our divorce was final 3 weeks ago today on 10/6.

She walked away from her husband, her children, and her home for this guy. Only to find that after all of his sweet talking and promises, he was not going to leave his wife and kids
as they had originally planned. I also contacted his wife and informed her of their infidelity. I was startled when she said . . . “He does this sh*t all the time. He’s not going anywhere. It’s just play time for him.” So, here she is . . . No husband, children that don’t want to see her, no home with a real white picket fence that I built for her, and no FB boyfriend (yet). She’s lost her good girl reputation not only with my family and friends, but with her own family and friends as well.

18 years together. 13 years married. It just feels as if it was all for nothing.

Ya . . . I hate Facebook and the other social networking sites.

FOOD

FINNISH PROVERB

Love is a flower which turns into fruit at marriage.

GEORGE ROUTLEDGE

MANUAL OF ETIQUETTE
, 1860

In addition to advice for newlyweds, the popular etiquette book by publisher George Routledge (1812–1888) included subjects as varied as how to organize a ball and how to carve a calf’s head.

Not the least useful piece of advice—homely though it be—that we can offer to newly-married ladies, is to remind them that husbands are men, and that men must eat. We can tell them, moreover, that men attach no small importance to this very essential operation, and that a very effectual way to keep them in good-humour, as well as good condition, is for wives to study their husband’s peculiar likes and dislikes in this matter. Let the wife try, therefore, if she have not already done so, to get up a little knowledge of the art of
ordering
dinner, to say the least of it. This task, if she be disposed to learn it, will in time be easy enough; moreover, if in addition she should acquire some practical knowledge of cookery, she will find ample reward in the gratification it will be the means of affording her husband.

“MARRIAGE AND COOKERY”

NEW-YORK TRIBUNE
, 1890

Only one note to offer here: Blancmange is a cold dessert usually made with milk, sugar, and gelatin.

We don’t know why it is, but Brooklyn men seem to be always getting into trouble . . .

This Fulton-street man was a widower, but did not appear to know enough to remain in that condition. He lived quietly with his sons and one or two servants. Last fall he hired a cook named Susannah Baumann. She proved to be a remarkably good cook, turning to pork and beans or blanc-mange with equal facility. Her pies were always done on the bottom, and as for her old-fashioned doughnuts, they were twisted poems, complicated as Browning, but palatable as Robert Burns. She was also sunny-tempered and open to conviction, and when her employer suggested another dash of salt in the chicken gravy, she complied with a smile. But did this Brooklyn man appreciate his treasure? Seemingly not—he married her. They were wedded in November. Are good cooks, then, so easy to obtain in Brooklyn? asks the New-Yorker. Not at all—they are no more numerous there than here. This foolish Brooklyn man simply thought that he could marry his cook and have her too.

We do not need to enlarge on what followed—it was the natural result. She no longer broiled the beefsteaks, but fried them over a slow fire. Boiled chicken gave place to something which had apparently been dried in the sun. Mutton chops she burned at the stake. As for pie and other forms of pastry, she refused to make them at all as involving too much labor. Her temper deteriorated and her voice grew harsh and severe. In April she insisted that her husband hire a cook, which he did. Last week the matter culminated. Susannah went away. The Brooklyn man had not, of course, since marrying her, given her any money—women not understanding the proper use of money. But when she went she took all the money that he had in the house ($300) and the jewelry belonging to himself and his sons. She wrote him a letter, which she posted in the iron letter-box on the corner. He got it the next day, and in it she told him that she had decided to endure his impudence no longer. She was going to Germany with a former lover, and in closing she hoped that these few lines would find him enjoying good health and reasonable prosperity. She expressed the hope that his heart would remain true to Susannah. Then she added pathetically, “Write soon,” and that was all; and the Brooklyn man went around to the police station and told the whole story substantially as we have given it. For us to offer further comment would be mockery.

BRITISH POSTCARD, CIRCA 1912

BLANCHE EBBUTT

DON’TS FOR WIVES
, 1913

British author Blanche Ebbutt wrote several small books of guidelines (see
Husbands, How to Keep
;
Wives, How to Keep
), some lofty, some very specific.

Ebbutt’s books were recently reissued and have been popular wedding gifts, but her identity remains a mystery.

Don’t despise the domestic potato. There are a hundred appetising ways of cooking it; but unless you take it firmly in hand, it will arrive at table with the consistency of half-melted ice—mushy without, stony within. The boiled potato is the rock on which many a happy home barque has foundered.

RACHEL BELLA CALOF

MY STORY
, 1936

Rachel Bella Calof (1876–circa 1952) was a Russian Jewish immigrant homesteader in North Dakota. Bride in an arranged marriage, she raised nine children; survived the harshest extremes of weather; made lamps out of mud, rags, and butter; and, as she remembered in the following passage from her memoir, found resourceful ways to feed her husband in the earliest days of their marriage.

Our water supply was so scant that I decided to find some usable water in some low place on the prairie where the snow melt might run together. I did discover such a place about a mile away. I carried two pailfuls from that place, but when I got back to the shack I saw that the water was full of worms and grass. The water would have to be boiled to be usable. The solution to the problem was not so easy as we had just run out of fuel. There was nothing with which to start a fire. I was determined though, and again went out into the prairie which held many provisions if one only knew where to look. I took with me only a rope and my huge belly.

About two miles distant I came across a place where new grass was growing through a bed of dried-out grass. The dried grass was plentiful and looked dry enough to burn. I was delighted with my find. My pleasure, though was tempered with a certain dread. I knew little of the wildlife of this country, and I became fearful that I would encounter a snake in the beds of dried grass. I hesitated, but soon my stomach informed me how hungry I was, and the child within
me needed food too. My husband labored in the field removing rocks and I knew that he too must be hungry. I needed that boiled water to prepare some kind of a meal and I said to myself, “Don’t be a spoiled person. You must risk it. Even if there is a snake there, you must try.” I stepped into the area. No snake bit me and soon I was enthusiastically gathering the dried grass. Quickly I gathered a great bundle and tied it into a compact bundle with my rope.

According to the sun it was already midmorning and Abe would be coming in from the field not long after noon. I had to get home quickly but the food left in the shack was only a little flour, some barley, some soured milk, and a little butter. A really daring idea came to me. I decided to spend a little more time looking around the place to see what else it might offer. Promptly, my further exploration brought results. I found what appeared to be wild garlic. . . . I enlarged my search area and before long I came across plants which unquestionably were wild mushrooms. Now I knew that some mushrooms were deadly poisonous. Still I thought that this was a good time to take a chance. I bit into one and held it in my mouth. It didn’t burn or taste bad, so I swallowed it. I waited a while for something to happen. Nothing did, and I gathered an apronful of the mushrooms, and with my garlic and the bundle of dried grass on my shoulder, I started for home happy with my accomplishments and eager to see how I could put them to use.