Ties and Stockings:
Reflections on Marriage

It was another weekend escape to my aunt’s house in Greenwood Lake, New York.  My Titi Evelyn and Tio Cruz were both getting ready to go to the city for the birthday celebration of my Tio Cruz’s grandmother’s birthday.  I don’t remember how old she was turning; somewhere in her seventies, a kind old woman lovingly called Tata by her daughter and her four kids and her grandkids kids.  They had called me up earlier in the week, asking if I could watch their two Shi Tzu dogs Lucky Boy and Mandy girl while they were away in the city.  They would be gone almost all day, returning late at night.  There was food all around the house and money left for me on the counter, plus a long list of instructions of precautions to take and things to do in case it rained. 

My aunt had already laid out my uncle’s dark wool suit out in the sala.  It hung carefully from a hanger that was hanging from the entertainment unit cabinet, a nice light wooden piece they had picked up on one of their trips to Pennsylvania.  I am trying very carefully not to get in the way as my aunt and uncle run about, getting dressed and finally retire to their spaces to do so.  My aunt goes to “her room,” the empty room on the first floor of the house that has her bureau, her dollhouse and an assortment of dolls and bears she has bought over the years.  My uncle runs back and forth between their room and the sala, very careful as he is only in his boxers and the shirt my aunt carefully ironed for him.

I decide it is safe to sit on the mint green footrest that rests about a foot from the green armchair in the sala, not really sure of what to do and also a little curious as to how a man dresses up for a fancy occasion.  My mom has never been married and the two brothers that live with me are too young to truly dress up for any occasion; khakis and polo shirts are appropriate for weddings or funerals.  My Tio Jimmy had been married but I never really stood over at his house.  Besides, most of the time he wears jeans and shirts.

The part where my uncle puts on his tie interests me the most.  This is something I’ve never really seen up close, only on places such as television or in Peter Pan.  The man puts the tie around his neck, making sure the skinny part is at a certain part of his shirt.  He brings one side over the other, brings the other side through and the rest is an oblivion of tucks and pulls I have yet to remember or even try to understand.  My uncle ties his tie while staring into the entertainment unit, looking at his pants to make sure the creases are tight.  He was in the Marines and therefore irons more violently then any other person I know or hope to know.  He was the one who taught me how to correctly iron a cotton shirt.  He’s also the one who spent a lot of money on a new iron because it was the one the professionals use.  My aunt can’t touch it.

He sees me watching him tie his tie and talks me briefly through it.  Over, under and...next thing I know he is telling me how to use this things that look like the things I use to keep my sheet on my mattress to keep your shirt tucked into your pants.  Just attach them to the tails of your shirt, then attach the other ends to your socks.  He is wearing black socks and carefully he slips on his pants.

My aunt comes out of the room looking beautiful.  She’s wearing the stockings Tio Cruz and I bought at Shop-Rite earlier that day.  She is also wearing a long blue dress, small white dots printed on the fabric.  New black shoes complete the outfit and her hair is curled.  My uncle is wowed and tells her so, telling me he loves when his wife dresses up, she looks so gorgeous.  When she is out of the room he tells me how he used to feel bad because he never used to give her any money to buy things for herself.  My aunt stays at home while he works his job as a Triboro Bridge and Tunnel Officer, and makes good money by working late shifts and over time.  He said he wanted his wife to dress up, buy herself nice things like dresses and shoes and perfume, so he started giving her money.  He knows she works hard at home, keeping the house clean, making him lunch, taking care of a garden so he can look at the beautiful crimson snapdragons as he pulls into the driveway.  It’s not his fault if she spends all the money he gives her on extra things for the house.

My aunt and uncle got married after they moved into the house.  They hadn’t always been married the whole time they have lived there together.  But my uncle told me one day he felt bad, he got convicted from God.  That he wasn’t doing my aunt right by not marrying her but still living with her.  So he took her down to the City Hall in Greenwood Lake and they got married.  Nobody in my family went except my Tio Jimmy, only because he had the day off and could make it.  They got married on the gazebo by the lake.  In the springtime frogs sing there at night, and it’s a very peaceful and nice place.  I guess the way people should hope their marriages should be; peaceful and nice and good to look at when you think about it. 

Instead marriage is such an iffy thing.  My mom hasn’t bothered to get married once; men annoy her.  My Tio Jimmy divorced his wife, staying with her only because they had a kid together.  My dad didn’t bother to marry my mom and is now married to a kind and beautiful woman named Mimi; too bad he doesn’t appreciate her.  Some people see it as a burden, another way society binds us, a convention meant to be smashed to pieces if you are to be modern and revolutionary and intelligent.

And yet I think marriage and the small motions that go along with it are such beautiful things; maybe I think so because it is so rare around me.  Yet a small things like ironing your husband's clothes for him or washing the dishes while your wife is in the shower seem like such great treasures.  Whenever I catch either my aunt or uncle doing one of these things I watch hungrily, sensing the cooperation and the grace of God that underlies the actions.  Sometimes when I pray, I ask God if he could give me the grace and patience to deal with men, if he could ever put it in my heart to grow out my hair and hang up my boots, hush my mouth and every once in a while give my husband a chance to speak. 

Many people dislike the so-called religious view of marriage, where the man is the head of the house and the woman cares for it, being submissive to husband.  This is the only part of the chapter on marriage many people seem to read, though.  They skip over the part where it commands the husbands to be kind to their wives, to treat them as they would want to be treated.  In marriage, after all, both parties must separate from their own families and cleave to each other, to form one new being.  There is to be respect given and received from both parties, the man put as head not because we serve a sexist God but because our God is a God of order and knew having two rulers over one domain would promote conflict.  He gave each gender, male and female, their agendas, both equally hard, each with their own downs and perks.  It was not God who messed up marriage; it was the part of human nature that always wants to be over something and yet ruled at the same time that screwed things up.

I honestly and truly see my aunt and uncle’s marriage as an awesome thing, something that has only been able to be pulled off by the grace of God.  The things they do that only married couples do both intrigue me and shock me.  Their terms of endearment make me laugh out of joy and their arguments scare me.  The fact that they both love me, collectively, is a nice felling as well, and they support me not only with love an encouragement but by setting an example for me, showing me something I could have one day, as long as I follow God’s will.  If I seek his face, I won’t ever have to go out looking for a husband; he’ll throw him at me.  Hopefully that will be me one day, sitting in the room getting dressed up to go out while my husband puts on his tie in the bathroom.

-  By Tristan Brooks

Tristan first volunteered at Xcel in 1996 at the age of 13. She has since graduated high school and enrolled as a creative writing student at The New School in August 2001. After excelling as a college freshman, she took a year off to particpate in The Master's Commission based out of Spokanne, Washington. She will return to college in Fall 2003.

*******

For more original writings by Xcelers, go here.