Tyler's Turn Blog

Yesterday, I was talking about Iraq with someone, and she said, "You know people make a big deal of the violence in Iraq, but they forget that it's only taking place in five of eighteen provinces. And the Kurdish region is doing great."

That's a common argument for those who want to see hope in Iraq, but I don't think it holds up to scrutiny. By that reasoning, the U.S. Civil War wasn't a big deal, because most of the fighting took place in a handful of southern states, and the far western states were hardly affected at all. Yes, Sherman's scorched-earth policy, razed many of the southern cities, but New York, Boston, and Philadelphia were hardly touched by the violence.

Or, to use a more modern analogy, what if someone told you that life in New York, Pennsylvania, Texas, California, and Florida was a living hell, but Michigan was doing great, and the rest of the country was fairly stable? Five out of fifty isn't really so bad, right? Even if the five hell-holes happen to be some of the most populous states, at least New Mexico's okay, and Michigan is thriving.

The other day, I had a woman come into the store who had met a gay couple at the local ACLU meeting. She couldn't remember their names, and she couldn't really describe them. They had given her a business card and she'd lost it, and she hoped I would know them and be able to give her their contact information. I'm an out gay man with a storefront business, which makes me the go-to source for all things gay.

The crazy thing is that I knew exactly who she was talking about -- confirming that, yes, we do all know each other, have a secret handshake, and meet in a basement once a month to plan the gay agenda.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the gay couple's contact info (and wouldn't have given it out anyway), and couldn't remember their last names to look them up in the phone book. I guess I'm not the go-to source for all things gay after all -- just most things gay.

I'd only been married a couple months when a friend who'd been married much longer said to me, "Someday, you'll be so annoyed with your spouse that you'll want to spit. When that happens — and, believe me, it will — try to remind yourself of the things about him that made you fall in love. You'll probably discover those are the very things that annoy you the most."

I'm a tortoise. I've always been slow and steady. When I was a kid I would eat around my plate, one item at a time — finish the peas and then move on to the potatoes. And that's been my philosophy ever since. Uneaten potatoes don't bother me, as long as I'm enjoying the peas. I'll get to the next thing when I get to it, and eventually I'll eat the whole plate.

I married a hare. That pile of uneaten potatoes makes him crazy. He has to eat some of everything on his plate — peas, potatoes, meat, then take a sip of wine, and don't forget the desert. Of course, that's what made me fall in love with him. He's so vibrant, so daring, so full of vim and vigor, so the opposite of me.

When I get angry at his inability to sit still, to focus on finishing one idea before moving on to the next big thing — his inability to clean up the mess he made remodeling the kitchen, because it had to get done today (hypothetically speaking, of course) — I remind myself that's what I love about him.

If I'd married another tortoise, we'd never have any fun, and I'd have no one to prod me to try the next big thing.