2004-01-22 - 5:13 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "Science Fiction Double Feature", RHPS soundtrack

Found a piece of an e-mail I sent to Poindexter just after our first visit alone together in February of 1996:

OK, Poindexter, �fess up. :) How much longer is the niceness going to last? How long until you turn into a sports-watching, beer-drinking potato without a single concern for me beyond my being fit enough to walk to the kitchen to get you another beer? I told a few people at work how you would get food for me and stuff and they said, "Won't last long!" in a singsong voice.

Heh.

Actually, that's kind of sad. It's sad that so many couples stop lavishing attention on each other when at least one party still wishes for that kind of attention. This was something that used to bother me, and it was one of the things that made me anti-marriage. I used to worry aloud to Poindexter, early on, "What if we turn out like that?" Meaning, what if we turn out like those relationships I don't like? And he said, "The only reason our relationship would get like that is if we stopped trying."

I suppose I can't see the future now any better than I could then, but I do know that eight years later, he's still lavishing me with all the attention I could ever want. I don't want the same kinds of attention that many other women want, but the kinds of attention I do want, I get.

Lest you think this is one-sided, I'll have you know that I always check in with Poindexter to make sure I'm doing a good job as his wife. "Am I making you happy? Is there anything I could be doing differently? Anything you want less of?" He just laughs at me and says everything is great. Either he's very easy to please or I'm doing a bang-up job.

Dammit, all that seems to come to mind to talk about is the weather. Stupid winter.

It seems to be a common affliction though. My grandfather kept a journal (my father's father). He wrote them on notepad-sized pieces of paper with an ancient Underwood typewriter that my brother has now. His journal is as different from mine as night is from day -- just very short blurbs about what he did that day, and who he talked to or saw, with no detail at all. When he died, I asked to have the journals, and got 'em. Here's a few entries:

Sun., April 10, 1977 - Easter Sunday. [Son] and his family visited us. He straightened the diningroom light fixture.

Mon, 11 - Worked around and in the home, put up the hose hanger in the garage, etc.

Tues., 12 - Called the Telephone Company -- 611 -- and reported the wire laying on top of the ground again. he said someone would call tomorrow. Painted the opposite wall in the hallway with Desert Gold. Met our new neighbor: [name]. His wife's name is [name]. [Friend] called. Received invitation from [Name] to play Bridge with them 730pm. Sat., APril 16.

Wed., 13 - Hand-delivered the 30-day List to the Service Department 915am. Mailed change of address cards to [name and full address] and to [our] Community Church. Income Tax forms mailed to U.S. Government and to the State of New Jersey. Repainted the wall with Desert Gold instead of the lemon yellow color. Gave [name] our new 'phone number. Made resvn at [restaurant] -- 2:40p.m. -- window table for four, 530pm Sat., 4/16. [Friend] stopped in.

Word geeks: Notice the use of the apostrophe before "phone", which I never see anymore.

It cracks me up to read these because they are actually more indicative of his personality than you might think. He was an enormously fun person, who loved to discuss things he read in the New York Times -- everything from political issues to silly entertainment. He loved language and words, and would come over and discuss the improper spelling of "supersede" (sound familiar?).

But he was also very focused on being accurate about (what I considered) the boring details of things. He would definitely always have mentioned exactly which color of paint he was using. He would have said, "Internal Revenue Service", not IRS. If he ever mentioned a person, he would always use the person's full name, and would often repeat it. He enunciated very clearly. So I can just see him telling me personally that he mailed his income tax forms, using exactly the words he used above.

Damn, I miss him. He was fun. :)

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