Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 253, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 November 1917 — Little Problems of Married Life [ARTICLE]

Little Problems of Married Life

By WILLIAM GEORGE JORDAN

(Copyright) THROWING OVERBOARD THE OLD L— FRIENDS. In that famous journey of Jonah the prophet, from Joppa to Tarshish, nearly three thousand years ago, when the wind and the tempest rose, and the great waves washing over the little craft threatened to submerge it, they threw Jonah overboard that the lightened ship might ride easier in waters smoothed into peace and tranquility. In this twentieth century, the old time friends of the husband are often similarly cast overboard from the ship of matrimony that its burden may be lightened and the waves of home discord may be stilled. The direct primitive simplicity of the Jonah incident is rarely followed today. It is usually accomplished by tact and tactics, by seeming innocent comments and criticisms, by delicate diplomacy, by placing the friend in an exposed position which makes it seem that he merely fell overboard. R is the final result of; gentle, grades! -- pushes instead of one bold, fearless toss. When a girl marries she does not feel that the curtain has been rung down on the nearest and best in her old life. Iler girl friends do not give

her up for lost and feel that she has passed forever out of their love, sympathy, regard and companionship. Her life has but broadened ; they will visjt her and she them as of old; they will take interest in her new world and she will retain as best as she can the threads of the old relationships. The husband usually is honestly glad that her days alone may be brightened a little by these friends, that she is getting out of life all the happiness that she can. Of course he has very little appreciation of her old admirers; her fervor of approval of their good points seems to be more sentimental than judicial; he cannot imagine what she can possibly have ever seen in A, or B, or the others down the alphabet of her men friends. Wild enthusiasm over them is hardly to be expected but for her woman friends, except when they camp around the house at all hours and make it impossible for him to have a quiet talk alone with her, he is usually complaisantly tolerant if not cordially encouraging. He does not always receive similar courtesy and consideration. When a man marries, even his truest, worthiest and best friends, those who have been close to him, who have been his confidants, his chums and his comrades, feel with sadness that it bus now come to the parting of the ways. They bid him good-bye, in spirit if not in words, as though he were' going to some island in the South seas and they might never see him again. It is not the natural drifting apart that comes from his absorption in his home, with new duties and responsibilities that- they fear; it is that they will be disqualified by his wife—and that her secre't influence

will be turned against them. Of course they do hot think she Is just the one they would have picked out for him, for a mail rarely does approve of his friend’s wife as quite good enough for him, but they are willing to be magnanimous. and let loyalty and charity wipe away prejudice, and even believe that she is the wonder her husband declares. If she be wise, for her own sake and that of her husband, she will try to make them her friends, too, and guard carefully against their even being washed overboard, much less Igk ing thrown ruthlessly into a sea of forgetfulness. If they already happen to be her friends as well, they usually will be admitted into..the home on her ticket and have a comfortable orchestra chair, but often, when it is otherwise, the husband alone can issue but a pass entitling the bearer to standing room only. There are some wives who show a strange jealousy in trifles. They have a hunger for allness; they are not satisfied with being merely supreme, and first and best and most —they want to be “only.” They are not content with ■being the sun of his life; they want to be the sun and all the constellations, too. They want to corner his emotional output and control the entire market. They often seem to consider his affection, regard, esteem, liking and favor as his emotional cash and that if he spends the least bit of it elsewhere it is taking just so much from them. Their constant fear of competition is a poor tribute'to their own powers.

When a man first tells his sweetheart or itis wife about his best friend, in his loyalty, generous pride, and confidence that he is speaking to welcoming ears, he may boom him unduly. Soon he may become conscious in a vague way that the audience is a bit cool and unenthusiastic, his, words do not seem to carry over the footlights and the applause is faint and perfunctory. When he tells of the time when they roomed together at college and pledged eternal friendship, it seems to her just a bit young and sentimental. When his voice trembles a little at the episode of the mining camp when his friend nursed him through the fever she say»: "Never mind, dear, now you •won’t need him, you have me to take care of you.” - _ The recital of a story of his friend s

sense of humdr does not appeal to her; it is weighed in the balance and found wanting. Every good* point she discounts in unquiet, illusive way he.feels but cannot combat, every virtue is shown to have : ‘fcome failing wrapped up in the seam?. When he is most Interested in impressing her she looks way off into the distance or flags his train of thought at the way-station of some commonplace observAtion that shows she has only been half listening as she interrupts to point out the funny shade of a cloud or to ask him if he does not think old-rose sash-cur-tains are beautiful. When he invites his friend to dinner at their house for the first time he is filled with a boyish delight—and overanxious that it will be a success. He is proud of his home and wants* to have it admired; he is proud of his wife and proud of his friend and wants them really to like each other. She is pleasant but just a little more dignified than is absolutely necessary; there is a slight air of constraint; talk does not flow freely. The fountain of his friend’s wit throws only a timid, tentative spray occasionally and causes only the faintest splash of a half smile. After the coffee things brighten up a little and over the cigars the two talk over old but—it is not a real trio. When good-night time comes and he goes to the door and help? his friend on with his coat, and on the steps a few minutes, look up at the stars and discuss the weather, prospects, there seems a note missing in the music. Both are conscious of it

When he hurries back to the diningroom, where they have tarried because it seemed more comfortable, to hear the verdict of the jury of one, he Is disappointed even though he feared it was prejudiced. The first remark, “Hasn’t he large hands?” does nut seem really vital but it is significant. He does get credit for dressing wellbut as this was to be expected, it not count. He laughs too loudly; L’.e seems conceited; he mispronounced four words; he called her husband by some flippant nickname; he has suclr strange views of religion, she is sure he is an atheist; there must be something wrong with his family, he never mentioned any of them; she would wager anything there is a cruel streak in him for she could tell it By the expression of his mouth. She seems to have a certain pleasure in checking off the items, seemingly unconscious of the pain she is giving. In her prejudiced mood even St. ftiul would be disqualified had'be come in as a friend upon whom the husband depended for affection, counsel and comradeship. In the days that follow the resentful rebellion stimulated by the defense and protest helps her to find new flaws and defects, and the never failing trickle of comment and criticism may beain to wear away a rock of friendship. The friend’s visits become shorter as the Interval between them grows longer and then cease. The husband occasionally meets him down-town and he chafes at the thought that he is not treating him squarely; it seems disloyal, but he cannot see how to change it. He frets at the curtailment of his freedom; he does not speak of the meeting at home. He knows that If he should speak it would mean a fusilade of questions, not of real interest but of curiosity, the instinct of being on guard like a sentry whose duty it is to challenge. He does not care to invite the inquisition. It is sad when a wife, even through overzealous loving, closes with her own hand the door of her husband’s confidence; it may—rust on its hinges and become diflflcult to reopen.

Other friends of his may be dropped overboard in many ways and for many excuses but with the same real reason. One may borrow money, another may have bad table manners which her comments convert into almost a crime, a third is not tolerated because his wife, and so the catalogue of extinguishing the lights of friendship runs on until all the old ones are snuffed into darkness and forgetfulness. The friends then are the new; ones they have made together since their marriage and her old friends that are new to him. They are those that have not weathered the storms and trials of life and been tested and found staunch and true. The old friendships carry with them a sentiment deep-rooted in the past, a. sweetness, a tenderness, a loyalty, a communion of memories and experiences that cannot be duplicated in after life. They are like old books that we have loved for years. The binding is worn and smoothed by our hands and by dear hands now stilled forever; the inscriptionwit 11 the duteis growing fainter for the eyes to decipher but easier for the heart to read; there are passages that helped and inspired us still loyally retaining our penciled lines so we could turn to them in perfect confidence whenever we desirer = * =

There is the thumb-mark that floods memory with a glow of hallowed golden light, for only we know what it means. There is the turned down page ft would seem irreverence to fold back; there are dim, dried brown tints on the margins that somehow suggest the autumn of our years; there is the fern-leaf slipped in that night we shall never forget while a smile is still left in the heart, and the narrow ribbon book-mark is faded and crinkled. And the whole book is dear to us and we love it and we trust it. It has an honest feel as we open it and it speaks the same old words just in the same old way with no slightest change! through all the years. The new editions in green and gold are beautiful but they seem so self-conscious and assertive; they look new and they smell new and they seetn untried, untested, unproved.