Monday, March 21, 2011

The View From Bumbly-burg . . .

What with working non-stop for months of weekends in a row upon our new-found love Silver Oak, it was bound to happen that the GilGuy and I might possibly hit a wall ~ and finally descend into the abyss of "his way/her way" disagreements.  Emerging from that marital discord intact required a lot of effort on both our part, as, truth be told, both "his" way and "her" way were right and correct on their own merit.  Alas.  The give and take of compromise must be reached - and was reached - but sent us both ring side to catch our breath.

Enter Dwain.

The weekend had been on the books for some time, so it couldn't be classified as an impromptu get away.  Nay.  This was carved into asphalt, and the SUV would be trekking across the state line yet again, for another adventure.  Was it mere coincidence that the trip came on the heels of our conflict/resolution?  Or, was it the hand of the Lord, seeking to grant us reprieve from the fish bowl syndrome?

Methinks the latter.

You see, on the eve of the globes' largest full moon in twenty years, my Love and I were downtown New Orleans . . . not just anywhere downtown . . . no, we were at the bus station, which doubles as the train station, which was the mode of transport our [sic:  at the time Gil's] friend Dwain had chose to employ in his journey south.  On a good day, one would be alert in the vicinity thereof.  That night?  Triple alert.

Gil waited while I snapped a few photos of the iridescent moon overhead, and didn't leave my side until I climbed into the driver's seat, vehicle running.  Then, he turned on his heels and off he went, in search of the indefatigable Dwain.

I people watched - a twenty-something man approached Gil almost immediately - and took in the sights that accompany the bus station and New Orleans in the early hours of inky blackness pierced by the brilliance of the moonlight.

My estimation is that Gil and I saw him at the same time, the one who was making a beeline for me and my car and my toddler sleeping in the back seat.  I tensed myself, ready for vehicular movement if necessary, when, simultaneously, I saw Gil in my peripheral view.  He soon took all of my attention, as I watched him chivalrously move to protect his wife and child.  I posted on Facebook of the incident:

Wow. We were in a bad segment of town, I stayed with the car whilst Gil met our friend. Several homeless/ne'er do wells about, one approaching our car. I watched as Gil stepped out of the eave, picked up a rock, and readied himself to aim. The man shifted, and turned to go the other way. :feelingloved:

Truly I did!  While I've oft been reassured of my husband's constant love and deep commitment to me, we'd not disagreed in such fashion for some time.  Every gal likes to sense and know of the security that envelopes her via her husband's love.  Thus, Gil's actions that evening at the bus station spoke volumes to me, leaving me teary-eyed and with my heart in my throat.

~ There was no time to ponder on the wonder of it all.  Before I knew it, Dwain was in the car, and we were off!  A weekend that splashed with fun and vigor, most of which happening spontaneously and couldn't have been made to happen if we'd planned it.

So, it was by daylight this morning, when I felt Gil's kiss upon my brow, that I was awakened to the reality of the situation I've just outlined for you here.

Grinning from ear to ear, the GilGuy stood before my bleary-eyed state mid-strut, stoked by my public words of affirmation to his gallant attempt to save me.  There was more to the story, he assured me, so I propped myself up on the pillow to listen.

It seems my assessment of his bravado was marred.  To aid the reader in understanding, one must, rather, envision an episode of Veggie Tales in which Larry the Cucumber has donned his "Larry Boy" super cape to protect the town of Bumbly-burg.  A tale of epic proportions (and plenty of bumbles) is about to unfold!

Yes.  Gil caught sight of the man headed straight for me under that full-moon.  So (as he relates it) he reached for his cell phone to dial my number, at the same time he began moving toward a grass-covered area just outside his range.  Inexplicably, while keeping his eyes on Ne'er Do Well #1, he tripped and found his phone to have left his secure grip - directly over the cement drive!

Averting disaster, Gil began to fumble-bumble furiously, tapping the phone mid-air until he was able to bumble it onto the grass, that it might land safe and sound.  In one fell swoop, then, he reached down deftly and scooped it back up with his left hand, tossing it to his right, and putting the receiver once again close to his ear.  What did all that bumbling produce before my eyes?  The appearance that the GilGuy had reached down to pick up a rock to aim toward the one bent on harming the bride of his youth!


We both experienced the man making a sharp turn and averting his path directly toward me, and heading another direction.  Full moon?  You bet.  Weird.

As Gil laughed with delight this morning over the differences in viewpoint, he parted with these most profound words:  "Angi, it's New Orleans . . . there aren't any rocks on the ground . . ."


Ah, well.  What a picture of what it means to have differences of vantage and what they mean to a situation.  Whether it be work or play, I encourage others to take a moment to step back from the situation, listen with fresh ears, and hear what the other person is saying.

After all, you may both be right.


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