Here in the south Jersey-Philadelphia area, we were fortunate, in that Hurricane Sandy didn’t slam into us the way it did to the shore’s barrier islands, or the way it disrupted New York. My cousin, who lives near the water in New York, lost his car and still doesn’t have power.
I thought I’d take a moment to let you know how we—my wife, Barbara and I—spent those “hurricane days” while hunkered down in storm mode.
Barbara read two books; I read two books. I tried watching the first half of the Eagles’ lifeless performance against the Atlanta Falcons that Sunday, but returned to my murder mystery before the second half started. I found the characters in Caroline Graham’s novel far less boring than the Eagles offensive attack—or rather lack thereof.
I stopped looking at the Weather Channel early Monday morning, because I didn’t need to hear any more about Michelin Tires or Allstate Insurance. The ratio of advertisement to actual storm information was running about three-to-one, so I opted to recline back on the couch and pick up another novel—this one by Mary Higgins Clark.
Here in south Jersey, we were right in the storm’s anticipated path of landfall—as the Weather Channel was persistently warning us. I know that information is intended to cause us concern, but as Barbara was quick to tell me, “There’s no sense worrying about things we have no control over.”
See, I would not have said it that way. Being an editor, I would have said, “There’s no sense worrying about things over which we have no control.” Because every English major knows you should not end a sentence with a preposition.
Can you guess what kind of reaction I got when I admonished her language skills? Let’s just say that it’s difficult to imagine how a pretty face such as her’s can form such a disagreeable scowl. It’s almost as though she’s had a lot of practice.
Well, she has been enduring me for more than 34 years, and next year, when we celebrate our 35th wedding anniversary, we’ll be renewing our marriage vows in front of children, grandchildren, and some close friends that have been instrumental in our lives, but just couldn’t make the original ceremony.
We even located the priest who originally married us back in '78. He thinks the idea is pretty cool, and he’s really looking forward to “marrying” us again. Why not? It worked pretty well the first time, so I’m hoping to get another 35 years out of this ceremony.
And we’ll be taking a honeymoon afterward.
No doubt, we’ll also take a couple of books along. But…I’m going to try my best to refrain from correcting Barbara’s grammar if she does happen to make a slip.
A honeymoon is not the best place to tell your bride that, “There’s no such word as irregardless!” Or, “Two negatives do not make a positive!”
I don’t need to see no disagreeable scowls on my honeymoon!