Baker and view most things differently: different faiths, dietary preferences, social groups.I’m trying to think of some things we have in common outside of a long friendship, 50 years of marriage and two children. If there was a contest for married couples who have survived the most arguments or stomp-and-walk-out-fights, we would win for sure.
In the 1960’s Baker and his two brothers were drafted and served in Viet Nam. I protested the war. I was working my way through college by waiting tables at Gigio’s Italian Restaurant when my boss offered to train me to be a bartender. I said yes. Baker was my first customer. Somehow that made him protective of me whenever things got tough. We became great friends. He drank. I went to ALANON. He proposed. We married. We had a son. Four years later he stopped drinking completely.
On our wedding day his friends were out in the back yard drinking and betting on how long we would last. Mine were in the bedroom smoking a joint. The old folks were drinking Kay FitzGerald’s Southern Comfort punch in the living room and kitchen.
Then we really got to know each other, not to say understand each other, still. It’s alright. We enjoy each other’s company. We balance each other. In the extreme Baker is an easy going doer, always a project in hand or on his mind. He has dozens of close friends. They build things and remodel things and do the heavy lifting around here. He is a tinkerer, always a project in mind or in hand. It is not always important to finish. The 1963 Plymouth Valiant and the 1967 Pontiac Firebird in the garage may never make it down the street.
I am the quiet one, kind of a loner - a reader, writer, gardener, walker and music lover. I am a Franciscan. I read and pray every morning and evening. I read The Guardian on my computer. He reads The Daily Olympian on his cellphone. While we could the national record for heated arguments, there is nothing that makes me angry anymore. We have changed each other against all odds and life is good.
— Julian
In the 1960’s Baker and his two brothers were drafted and served in Viet Nam. I protested the war. I was working my way through college by waiting tables at Gigio’s Italian Restaurant when my boss offered to train me to be a bartender. I said yes. Baker was my first customer. Somehow that made him protective of me whenever things got tough. We became great friends. He drank. I went to ALANON. He proposed. We married. We had a son. Four years later he stopped drinking completely.
On our wedding day his friends were out in the back yard drinking and betting on how long we would last. Mine were in the bedroom smoking a joint. The old folks were drinking Kay FitzGerald’s Southern Comfort punch in the living room and kitchen.
Then we really got to know each other, not to say understand each other, still. It’s alright. We enjoy each other’s company. We balance each other. In the extreme Baker is an easy going doer, always a project in hand or on his mind. He has dozens of close friends. They build things and remodel things and do the heavy lifting around here. He is a tinkerer, always a project in mind or in hand. It is not always important to finish. The 1963 Plymouth Valiant and the 1967 Pontiac Firebird in the garage may never make it down the street.
I am the quiet one, kind of a loner - a reader, writer, gardener, walker and music lover. I am a Franciscan. I read and pray every morning and evening. I read The Guardian on my computer. He reads The Daily Olympian on his cellphone. While we could the national record for heated arguments, there is nothing that makes me angry anymore. We have changed each other against all odds and life is good.
— Julian
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