Fractured Fairy Tale

One of my coworkers is soon to be married. Next week our office is having a little get together for the young couple. We all have been asked to bring a piece of advice on what it takes to make a marriage work. Who better than I to offer some worthwhile insight?


I recently had a conversation with my sister who asked me if I could name anyone who had a happy, successful and good marriage. Maybe it is a mere matter of perception, of how you define the terms, but neither one of us could come up with an example of a marriage that in actuality was successful on all levels. Maybe it is the years of isolation and solitude that has led me to believe that no matter how social a creature people are, and seem to need to be, maybe we are wisest when we are alone. Isn't that what most people are afraid of? Yet, no matter how much I try, I can't quite talk myself into actually believing that way of thinking. So the best advice I can come up with is this: to make such a commitment work, you have to learn how to compromise in the face of a society that goes against that.


Separation, or segregation as it is sometimes called, is often the law of the land. It is instilled in us that to combine different elements of our lives into a coherent whole can be dangerous, can lead to conflicts of interest as well as other problems. Separation of church and state; the alleged two party system; John and Paul; cats and dogs; men and women; the proposed watch dog role of the media; all are examples of this ingrained philosophy. Many of us were taught at an early age that it is wise to separate work from play; public from private. It's an attitude that becomes so second nature that life becomes a stage, and we learn to play different parts, learn to act the way the situation and culture calls for.


Over the past few weeks, I have become more aware of the falsehood of this way of thinking. What you learn outside the office can be logically applied to the job. For me, these are the days of miracle and wonder and this summer I have somehow found myself on two softball teams. On Wednesday nights I play for my aunt's brother's (not my father) team. It is comprised of a group of former Mounds View students who are now nearing forty. They have played together for such a long time, that any hint of age is overcome by familiarity. They know each other inside out, so they can cover for weaknesses while using each other's strengths to maximum effect. Although we play teams with more ability, no opponent can come close to the "teamwork" and thus we succeed more times than we fail.


It is a competitive team, and if we lose, some of the players take it harder than others. They want to win, want to play the best they can. With my aloof, but happy go lucky spirit, I'm not exactly sure how I fit in on the team. I can say that over my life I have learned there is no better feeling than after I have hit the ball into a gap and I can use my above average speed to try and run as far as I can. I feel like a little bunny in the wild. Softball to me is a therapy, and still with this team I feel awkward and my confidence is lacking. I don't want to fail and thus tighten up and make mistakes I shouldn't make.


On Thursday nights I play on a coed team: for my former employer the Secretary of State, appropriately named Joan's Jets. It is a team that over the years has mellowed out; the purpose isn't so much to win, more to have fun and give it our cliched best. We often don't win but without the pressure, my own performance is enhanced. The lesson learned is that the difference between the two teams for me is the approach and attitude. One night I don't feel like I belong, I feel like I have something to prove and don't want to make a fool out of myself. I play tight and make mistakes as a result. And I must admit I endure the experience instead of enjoying it. The next night I know I have succeeded to a degree in the past, and although the expectations from my peers is greater, I can play more relaxed and thus succeed more times than not.


On a more coherent and relevant subject, I also happen to have two jobs of great diversity. One, I guess I consider my real job. It is the one that pays the bills, takes up most of my time and thought. It ain't a lot of fun, yet I have learned to approach it with more of a care free attitude and thus can enjoy it on a certain level. The other is what you have in your hands, and it is a labor of love, more than mere township jive and the cockiness that sometimes appears comes from confidence in knowing that if I make a mistake there is always next week to rectify things. Duality as opposed to mere duty.


Every job I have had has had its share of tedious tasks. Every place I have worked has had its share of complainers, of people who don't like what they are doing and constantly remind you of that fact. Maybe it's age, maybe maturity, maybe senility, but with each passing experience I have come to learn that it all does depend on your attitude. If you make something "just a job" it will be exactly that. If you approach something with an attitude that you want to make a difference, you often times can. Things don't always have to be separate; you can have it all- to a degree. It isn't always possible to do what you want to do, simply because that is often hard to define. But if you do well at what you are doing, with time, that is something that becomes easier to accept.