tickets to the gun show
I’ve always been attracted to the working man, squared shoulders and a set, hardened jaw, spinach-fueled forearms, and calloused hands. It’s not the fear of danger that I like, it’s not some misguided antiquated desire to be controlled or anything like that (very real, I know, hello Twilight fans, gulp)–no. There is absolutely nothing about being dominated, nothing about an angry man, that I find remotely palatable. Rather, it’s the work ethic, the utter capable-ness, and, maybe hottest of all, watching the softness sneak out. I love a good study in contrasts, the thrill of surprise, a healthy dose of you-can’t-box-me-in with a dash of wipe-that-smirk-off-your-face for good measure. Watching a man in head-to-toe camouflage on the floor playing Barbies is my aphrodisiac, particularly when the Barbies start talking about grad school and martial arts in thick, gruff voices. Go on with your bad self, macho man.
The thing is, my husband and I are the ultimate study in contrasts. If I’m attracted to a good dichotomy, I must want to make out something fierce with my marriage, run my tongue over his Red to my Blue, fondle his blow gun. (I’m not kidding, the man has a blow gun. It’s on the closet shelf next to his remote control tank.) Of course, a fine sense of humor doesn’t hurt either, like when we were discussing Halloween costumes this year and Dave suggested I go as a ticket booth. When I stared blankly back at him he shrugged, “You know. For the GUN SHOW.” And he flexed.
Yep.
On Saturday night I tweeted
and it’s true, that’s what we were doing. I was knitting because that’s what I do, soft, lazy things, all day long. I rise and I immediately make the bed, all down and plush and handmade quilts, because I like order and clean, I like comfort, I like stillness, I like peace. I see my family off and I drive to my writing studio where it’s cool and quiet, and I turn on every single lamp. I slide into fuzzy slippers and don my shawl and I think, and I write, and I sit very still. I go back home and I greet my children, shower them in mushy kisses and whisper over and over again I am so proud of you, I am so proud of you, I am so proud of you. Then I burrow into my corner of the couch with my knitting, or my book, or my cuddly iPhone, and I watch as the three remaining members of my family (and the dogs) attempt to decimate each other in an impromptu imaginary mud wrestling match on the floor. I smile and I hum, One of these things is not like the other as I knit and purl to their jagged beat.
My husband is a proud Republican; I briefly considered having Obama’s name tattooed across my thigh. I have at least one jam-packed bookcase in six of the seven rooms of our house; My husband has a book entitled “Backyard Ballistics.” I write; He pounds nails. I make lists; He crumples them up and uses them for the woodstove. I sit back and tell my daughters how much I love them; He rolls up his sleeves and wrestles them until they feel it. (I like to think that, between the two of us, they’re gonna be just fine. Pick and choose your poison, darlings. Pick and choose your love, however you feel it best, just so you know it’s there.)
The reason Dave was cleaning his guns Saturday night is because we’d spent that day, as a family, shooting. We got together with a few friends and used 20 different guns (and dozens of safety measures, mom) to shoot off thousands of rounds for over five hours. It’s not my usual thing but I like poking my head inside Dave’s world every once in a while and sniffing around; more than that, I like anything that teaches my kids a little something more about life, because I believe knowledge is its own special brand of ammunition, and I like my kids locked and loaded.
On my blog you see my softness, my heart, my pink, silky guts. I remember once I posted a picture with a Harley Davidson and you all about lost your minds, you were so surprised, crying, I had no idea! and This is not the you we know! Well here’s the thing, I like not being in a box, too. It’s why I like so many of you, you, who might not like each other. It’s why I believe we are all, each of us, interesting and unique and just right. It’s how I want my daughters to walk through this world–side by side with everyone they meet. Not behind, but not in front, either. If there was one thing I could change about this life it’s all the criticism and judgment I’m exposed to every single day. It’s just no way to live.
Dave, honey, my love, my baffling beast of a man, I don’t always understand you but I want you to know, for the record, that I value every single thing you are teaching our daughters, too. That just because I’m one of those liberal hippie types you make fun of regularly with relatively illegible mass email forwards, it doesn’t mean I don’t honor every single atom of your being and appreciate all you bring to this family. That even though I cringed and refused to look at the deer carcass you hefted home last night, I appreciate that we’ll be eating grass-fed, local meat without having to support some plastic packaged upscale supermarket chain to get it. I want you to know, that I know, there’s more than one way to skin this parenting beast.
I want our kids exposed to all the best parts of each of us, even if the rest of the world doesn’t think those parts fit together. Because I know they do, in the most stunning, crystallized, glitter-speckled kaleidoscope kind of way, 17 years strong now. So, yes. Guns, when used responsibly, can be pretty cool. (Though not quite as cool as your arms wrapped around our girls, gently guiding them through the motions of this world.)
Just don’t forget knitting is cool, too.
*nerdy fist pump*
Amysprite says:
I feel much the same way about my hubby. Kids need all kinds and love is love, no matter how it is dished up.
And… 17 years?!? Wow. That is a beautiful thing.
I miss you!!!!!!!
November 9th, 2009 at 10:23 am
Tatiana says:
Really interesting perspective, Maggie. I like that you and your husband just take one another for what you are, that you have different interests, and that you let your kids be exposed to and take part in both interests. Sure, over here, I cringe at the thought of a child handling a gun, but that’s my life, not yours, and it doesn’t particularly matter what I think; it matters that you are open to letting your children pick and choose their own path, and that you and your husband provide them with a loving, caring environment.
maggie, dammit Reply:
November 9th, 2009 at 10:36 am
Well, the truth is, I’m so prone to anxiety as it is that I didn’t relax for five hours–I hovered, double and triple checked, freaked out with the best of them. But, I think people who are educated about guns and used to handling them are so much more careful than the rest of us realize, and there were so many different safety measures in place. I also think there’s something to be said for teaching kids a healthy fear rather than hiding it from them completely, because what happens if they encounter a gun at someone else’s house or in all the other places I can’t control, and they think it’s something to be played with?
I don’t know, I’m with you–it didn’t feel right at first and I was so worried and skeeved out–but after Saturday I feel a whole lot better about it. I feel confident now that if my kids ever came across a gun they wouldn’t go near it, and they wouldn’t let their friends go near it.
I appreciate your diplomatic and kind comment.
November 9th, 2009 at 10:31 am
Lesley says:
This post is exactly why I love you and your writing so much: It tugs at my heartstrings at the same time it’s making me laugh hard enough the cat’s looking at me funny.
xoxo
November 9th, 2009 at 10:49 am
Pgoodness says:
I love this. I love that you are so different and you embrace it and encourage your kids to understand and swim happily in it. (and I think it’s cool that you safely shoot the guns)
November 9th, 2009 at 10:51 am
Rock and Roll Mama says:
My favorite word in the world is “chiaroscuro”- the contrast between light and shadow.
This is not to imply that you are light and Dave is dark, or vice versa- I just love that concept that one does not shine as brightly without the other, and that the interplay is what truly brings the other into existence.
Brilliant post, my dear.
November 9th, 2009 at 10:55 am
Ann says:
No one’s gonna be able to keep you in a box (or put Baby in the corner for that matter)
xo
November 9th, 2009 at 11:05 am
Insta-Mom says:
I would think you just described my home–from the knitting and bookshelves to the Harley and guns–just days before I will drop my husband off at the airport to go on a hunting trip with his father and my sons, while I bask in the warmth of a quiet home, where I can knit Christmas presents and read to my heart’s content.
A lesson in contrasts. And what we can all learn from them.
November 9th, 2009 at 11:06 am
Boy Crazy (@claritychaos) says:
Maggie – just so you know, my hubby wants in on that rain check afternoon at the Dammit compound, too.
November 9th, 2009 at 11:08 am
kelly says:
Oh Mags. They say that man and women used to be joined, body to body, polar opposites. We angered the gods and they scattered us, broke us in two, left us to wander. Some of us spend a lifetime in the looking for the other that completes us. You have found it. It makes me happy.
November 9th, 2009 at 11:14 am
Sue says:
Awwwww. Very nice. I love that the girls got some fire-arm education. My oldest niece is quite the hunter in her own right – and the younger one just started hunting with her dad. They absolutely love that extra bonding they get when they share hunting season with him. So, who knows?? Besides, it’s always nice to expose girls to the same things boys are exposed to. It helps to ensure mutual respect.
You keep knitting though honey – we don’t want crazy liberals running around with automatic weapons. THAT would ruin everything!!
Love ya!
Sue
November 9th, 2009 at 11:14 am
Nicole says:
LOVE it! I saw that Tweet and laughed hysterically the other night, BTW. I thought maybe some boy had made that first awkward move toward your eldest though, so daddy was oilin’ his guns.
It’s awesome that we all have those surprise little trick bag parts of our persona that just do NOT seem to go together at all. Can’t imagine how it must be to be married to one though for you it seems to work so well and is something so beautiful. Yeah, it MUST make things interesting!
November 9th, 2009 at 11:56 am
Kelly says:
I don’t want guns in my house, but I do want my children to know how to use them safely. Because of that, the eldest is signed up for a gun safety course and the mountain man is beside himself with excitement that soon they can do turkey shoots together.
I think the morbid fascination that children have with guns and shooting has to be tempered with some real-life practical training so that the first time they see a rifle or a pistol, they don’t grab it up and immediately pull the trigger.
I applaud your ability to find balance in your home. I struggle with it here with our similar dichotomy, but when it’s when we accept the differences that everything evens out.
November 9th, 2009 at 11:56 am
Jett says:
I think it’d be awesome if you knitted him a gun cozy for Christmas….or better yet, barrel covers!
My sisters and I were raised in an operas-and-rodeos fashion and I have always been thankful to my parents for the wide range of interests they exposed us to and for all of the various people we got to hang with.
The hippie and I are a study in contrasts as well, and I’ve never encountered anyone as sweetly suited to me as he is. We too have our textured idyll, one that is fiercely and uniquely us, one that I could not imagine doing without.
November 9th, 2009 at 12:14 pm
tysdaddy says:
Red and Blue. My wife and I are like that as well; she never tells me who she votes for, but I can generally guess it wasn’t the guy I voted for. I imagine if we ever agree, she’ll tell me. Or maybe not. Maybe that’s what keeps things interesting for her . . .
Great post, my friend.
November 9th, 2009 at 1:18 pm
fancy feet says:
Oh, I love this post.
November 9th, 2009 at 2:57 pm
Mojo,NC,USA says:
When I saw the title of this in my reader I knew it was gonna be good. It had to be good.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to have someone who’s been with you — literally — half her life still in love with you. Never mind the starry-eyed kind of in-love I see coming from you. It’s a rare and beautiful thing.
But knitting, huh? Gotta say, I didn’t see that coming.
November 9th, 2009 at 2:58 pm
Heather of the EO says:
Your perspective is so inspiring. Most of the time it’s just easier to be annoyed with these contrasts, but there really is beauty in our differences.
I just love this post. I’ll stop trying to describe why…
November 9th, 2009 at 5:29 pm
abdpbt says:
I’m not big on guns or Republicans, but I do love an exception that proves the rule. Your posts are filled with love, and whatever opposites attract chemistry you and your husband have, it must be working!
November 9th, 2009 at 5:44 pm
Stillie says:
This warms my heart! I love to see little girls with guns! I got my first rifle before I could even ride a bike and guns have been part of my life for as long as I can remember. I teach a handgun safety course to women at my local range.
But that pic of daddy with his little kid…gives me a huge smile!
November 9th, 2009 at 7:11 pm
blueviolet says:
And your differences are creating such well-rounded children!
November 9th, 2009 at 7:21 pm
racheld says:
This was as lovely as a sojourn in a peaceful place of green silences and solitude—the contrasts which make the whole, whole.
Your differences and your samenesses are echoed in my own family—the outdoors, firearms, the rough, elbows and shouts moments, and the comfortable, quiet sanctuary of home.
But this: I believe knowledge is its own special brand of ammunition, and I like my kids locked and loaded.
Engraved in stone.
November 9th, 2009 at 8:57 pm
pamela ~ the dayton time says:
The Mister and I are the same way, except I knit and he has hundreds of thousands of dollars in sound equipment. I don’t get it at all, and he doesn’t get the knitting, but we totally work.
Congrats on finding the right one.
November 9th, 2009 at 8:59 pm
flutter says:
This is just so familiar to me. I love how you love him, I love how he loves you.
November 9th, 2009 at 11:11 pm
Missives From Suburbia says:
I met Dave for… what? Thirty minutes? I let my tiny boy, one of the loves of my life, sit next to Dave on a concrete ledge overlooking the lake, with nothing to keep that sweet boy from falling in. No railing. No hovering momma. It was just Dave and J and your lovely, generous girls. I will never forget looking over and seeing Dave’s arm around J and feeling like that was a darned good place for my kid to be. It was clear to me that you’re both good people.
November 9th, 2009 at 11:17 pm
kootnygirl says:
I love reading accounts like this, of women loving their men so wholly and unconditionally.
And I love that children are able to be exposed to the (sometimes) vast differences between their parents, and pull the best from those varied experiences.
The gun thing? I can’t love that. I grew up with guns – hunting rifles. I’ve never understood the need for regular people to own or shoot automatic weapons. Maybe it’s the Canadian in me.
But what this post did, Maggie, was give me yet another example of how you can really like someone, even if there are aspects of their life you don’t understand or agree with.
You, even though I don’t ‘know’ you, I really like.
November 10th, 2009 at 5:21 am
deb says:
This is peace. You make it sound attainable.
November 10th, 2009 at 12:05 pm
JD at I Do Things says:
Aw, shoot. I loved reading this post. It reminds me to be grateful for the differences and not resent them. I couldn’t stand to be married to my clone. We’re not total opposites, but it occurred to me today that we have completely separate food items. We each have our own milk, yogurt, cereal, oatmeal, cheese . . . we NEVER eat the same food. And yet . . . it works. Probably BECAUSE we never eat each other’s food. I don’t ever have to worry about my Weight Watcher’s yogurt running low, and he doesn’t have to monitor his Hint of Salt Wheat Things.
November 10th, 2009 at 1:59 pm
anymommy says:
Love it, Maggie. My marriage is a lot like yours. I think Matt and Dave would really like each others. And I don’t knit, but I could watch you knit all day if you would talk to me too.
November 10th, 2009 at 2:38 pm
For Myself says:
I want to write like you. I want to write during the day in fuzzy slippers. I want to appreciate the ying to my yang like you do, too. But most days I feel pretty sure that I’m right and his rough tough gruff ways are…are…not as valuable as my ways. I have moments of openheartedness, but not as many as I’d like.
I want to write like you though.
November 10th, 2009 at 6:43 pm
starrlife says:
Diversity at it’s best. We all have to learn your tricks for getting along despite our differences- even loving each other with all of our differences. It’s wonderful that you can be so non-judgemental and leave him room to be him. He’s a lucky guy and you are lucky too! All of us have to consider the sources of our comforts and reconcile with the fact that we are hunter/gatherers at our very genetic level.
November 11th, 2009 at 5:50 am
mrsblogalot says:
This has to be one of the best posts I’ve read showcasing the best part of respect and individuality of two special parents…I mean guns.
When we took our son home from the hospital over seven years ago, I will never forget what the kind nurse said to the no-nothing-new-mother that I still am: -she said ‘Moms and Dads do things differently and that’s o.k.’
Such simple words but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve remembered them throughout the years. And today is one of them. Thanks!
November 11th, 2009 at 6:47 am
Postmarc says:
Posts like this one is why (no offense to your baffling beast) I love you.
November 12th, 2009 at 3:52 pm
David Levine says:
Oh Maggie. You just kill me with your incredible equanimity. Your daughters are so lucky to have parents like you and Dave. It shows in their smiles. Thank you for another wonderful post.
November 13th, 2009 at 9:07 pm
Jocelyn says:
Even outside of the points you make about marriage and parenthood here, I love the underlying message about tolerance and getting off our very high horses to see that everyone has something. Everyone has worth. Even guns.
November 13th, 2009 at 10:07 pm
Fran says:
I can so relate…except over the last few years the differences between hubby and myself have started to melt away. Our political views are melding. I now own a .45 (we’ve gone to the firing range with our 15YO several times, but mostly we like to keep it to the 2 of us). My little sister likes to tease me because of my gun-toting, bible-reading (it doesn’t say anything about not firing weapons in the Bible!), crocheting ways. She tells me if I quit drinking she’s going to quit speaking to me because that would be too over-the-top.
Bless you for sharing and connecting with us all.
November 14th, 2009 at 7:38 am
Chris says:
Another wonderful post. It’s unfortunately uncommon these days to hear anyone describe the value of diversity in people and attitudes. I don’t think love of others is possible without that appreciation. Thanks. again.
November 15th, 2009 at 7:10 am
Meg says:
My 11 year old son ran around outside with a pack of boys today, playing airsoft gun wars. Guns are awesome. At least when they’re dispensing tiny plastic pellets… and they get the kids away from the screens and out into the fresh air.
November 15th, 2009 at 7:22 pm
amanda says:
I’ve been absent from the ‘hood, not really reading and not commenting at all. I dove back in today and it has been wave after wave of tears, laughter, contented nodding and goose bumps. Quirky, irascible or lyrical, we share these stories, keeping parts of ourselves, sometimes for protection, other times for appearances, and others still by accident. I am so happy you shared this, that you reminded us of the unexpected ways in which perfect fits and magical homes are made. I am so fiercely glad to know that parts of you that I do and to have the adventure of acquainting myself with more as they emerge.
Hugs to you and your life.
November 16th, 2009 at 12:59 pm
Jack says:
I briefly considered having Obama’s name tattooed across my thigh.
That is the sort of thing that we can use to get you on a reality television show. Or alternatively we can start an Obama tattoo business. I know, the ideas are absurd, but it is kind of an absurd time of life.
Or maybe it is just that life is absurd. Yeah, that is more like it.
November 16th, 2009 at 5:49 pm
amy2boys says:
I love this post. Love is an awesome thing.
November 16th, 2009 at 9:44 pm
Jennifer says:
Love this! Although, the gun cleaning in my house would be all of us.
November 17th, 2009 at 3:23 pm
muskrat says:
I grew up with a similar dichotomy, and look how perfectly I turned out! Wonderful foreshadowing for your young’uns.
November 19th, 2009 at 10:48 am