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HOW TO SURVIVE THE FIRST YEAR OF MARRIAGE
BY SUSAN HALE
Ah, marriage! You go to sleep one night, madly in love, and wake up the next morning with a permanent roommate that you will swear you have never seen before. The honeymoon is over the electric skillet comes with instructions, but the husband does not. You must figure out what to do with him on your own. A word of warning it won't be easy. Love may be what causes a marriage, but it certainly is not enough to keep you married. To negotiate the trials and tribulations of the first year of marriage, and get your way, you must have the finesse of a general preparing for a battle.
Your first skirmish, more than likely, will be in the bathroom. You will get out of bed that first morning, walk into the bathroom and the commode seat will be up. The new roll of toilet paper, that you are certain you hung on the spool to tear over, has been changed to tear under . You counter by leaving the cap of the toothpaste and for good measure, you hand a few pairs of pantyhose over the shower rod. As you start downstairs, you hear hin scream in pain and realize that the caror you used to shave your legs wasn't yours. By breakfast, it is full-scale war!
Another area of unrest is the subject of in-laws. His mother squares oft against you like an old Army tank retaking a coveted hill. You will never do anything right in her eyes. Your new husband's most uttered phrase, this idyllic first year of your new life together, will be "That's not how my mother does it." To which you simply reply, "I don't care." Your best defense-sic your dad on him. After all, you are "Daddy's little girl,
The subject of in-laws brings us to another front line conflict, that we will refer to as "holiday wars." We use the plural form of the word, because during the next fifty of sixty years of your happy marriage. the battle over where to spend the holidays will be fought often. His family celebrates Christmas on Christmas Eve, and so does your's. Do you see the problem? The same difficulty applies to birthdays. You want to spend his birthday alone over a romantic dinner. His mother wants to take her "precious little boy" to Chuck E. Cheese's. An exaggeration, but nonetheless, the man is thirty years old! He would rather have sex than play skeeball.
Dealing with the first year of marriage requires much skill and strategy. The key is compromise. You promise to put the cap back on the toothpaste, if he promises to put the toilet seat down. You agree to spend his birthday with his parents, if he agrees to spend Christmas Eve with your parents. It all else tails, turn on the waterworks. Tears are the Scud missiles of marriage. Pew men can resist a crying woman. Just remember the best part of all the little skirmishes and battles fought during your first twelve months as man and wife, is when you call a truce and the peace talks begin.
SPENDING A DAY IN HELL
GLENN BOYD
It is night while uneasiness and fear are all around. The jungle that envelops us has a musky scent which is caused by the awesome monsoon rains. The foliage is extremely thick, and the sun has not yet dried the rain-soaked ground upon which we lay. Our platoon has been moved in quickly. So there has not been ample time to clear fields of fire or to dig more secure fighting positions. We are all very wet, tired, and hungry, yet no one thinks of eating nor will there be much sleeping tonight. We are in what we call Indian Country" and are all aware and have witnessed the danger and death that surrounds us, hidden by the night.
So far the night has been good to us, yet further up the hill other positions are not so fortunate. The rifle shots bursts from machine guns, and explosions are heard. Even the aroma of the powder is mixed with the stink of the rotting jungle and smelled by us further down the hill. Those units are having a very bad night.
I am the radio operator for my squad. My squad leader, Corporal "Bear" Banks is positioned with me. I have known Bear since I have been "in country", some six months now. Bear is a big, strong. hairy individual from the back woods of Arkansas. le looks and even growls like a bear. He had been in country some four months when I arrived, and he took me under his wing. so to speak, to help me learn the ropes. He is a very friendly and outgoing man, always looking after the new men. Though only 19, he is senior man in our squad. The "old man", big chief squad leader, taking over from Sergeant Mclaclin, who has just completed his second tour. 'Bear' didn't want the job as squad leader, yet accepted it feeling his knowledge might help save a life. He's now been here over ten months and will soon be going home. He loves pointing to those big, beautiful "freedon birds flying high ovechead and reminding us how little time he has lett. It has become a ritual every morning as our squad gathers around while Bear checks another day off his short-timer's calendar. Everyone thinks the whole world of Bear', especially me. When I was wounded two months ago, it was 'Bearwho cared for me through the night and carried my gear while I was in the hospital. Good ol' 'Dear'! You can always count on him.
Bear and I lie in the mud and listen to the hand set of my radio to the firefights higher up the ridge. We can hear orders, activity, situation reports, movements, cries for help, and casualty reports. It's like listening to a ball game on the radio. We hear what's happening play by play, but we never know the score. All we really know is that things are not so good and that certainly the choppers will be busy come morning. evaluating the dead and wounded.
The night is quiet for our platoon. It is lucky for us that ve have set in so late. "Charlie' can't pinpoint our positions. ile knows we'll be around for some time, so he will wait for a more opportune moment.
Dawn begins to break, and a false sense of security sets in on us. We made it through the night. Danger is still out there, but at least now we can see. But is that so good? Seeing is Sometimes Worse.
BY SUSAN HALE
Ah, marriage! You go to sleep one night, madly in love, and wake up the next morning with a permanent roommate that you will swear you have never seen before. The honeymoon is over the electric skillet comes with instructions, but the husband does not. You must figure out what to do with him on your own. A word of warning it won't be easy. Love may be what causes a marriage, but it certainly is not enough to keep you married. To negotiate the trials and tribulations of the first year of marriage, and get your way, you must have the finesse of a general preparing for a battle.
Your first skirmish, more than likely, will be in the bathroom. You will get out of bed that first morning, walk into the bathroom and the commode seat will be up. The new roll of toilet paper, that you are certain you hung on the spool to tear over, has been changed to tear under . You counter by leaving the cap of the toothpaste and for good measure, you hand a few pairs of pantyhose over the shower rod. As you start downstairs, you hear hin scream in pain and realize that the caror you used to shave your legs wasn't yours. By breakfast, it is full-scale war!
Another area of unrest is the subject of in-laws. His mother squares oft against you like an old Army tank retaking a coveted hill. You will never do anything right in her eyes. Your new husband's most uttered phrase, this idyllic first year of your new life together, will be "That's not how my mother does it." To which you simply reply, "I don't care." Your best defense-sic your dad on him. After all, you are "Daddy's little girl,
The subject of in-laws brings us to another front line conflict, that we will refer to as "holiday wars." We use the plural form of the word, because during the next fifty of sixty years of your happy marriage. the battle over where to spend the holidays will be fought often. His family celebrates Christmas on Christmas Eve, and so does your's. Do you see the problem? The same difficulty applies to birthdays. You want to spend his birthday alone over a romantic dinner. His mother wants to take her "precious little boy" to Chuck E. Cheese's. An exaggeration, but nonetheless, the man is thirty years old! He would rather have sex than play skeeball.
Dealing with the first year of marriage requires much skill and strategy. The key is compromise. You promise to put the cap back on the toothpaste, if he promises to put the toilet seat down. You agree to spend his birthday with his parents, if he agrees to spend Christmas Eve with your parents. It all else tails, turn on the waterworks. Tears are the Scud missiles of marriage. Pew men can resist a crying woman. Just remember the best part of all the little skirmishes and battles fought during your first twelve months as man and wife, is when you call a truce and the peace talks begin.
SPENDING A DAY IN HELL
GLENN BOYD
It is night while uneasiness and fear are all around. The jungle that envelops us has a musky scent which is caused by the awesome monsoon rains. The foliage is extremely thick, and the sun has not yet dried the rain-soaked ground upon which we lay. Our platoon has been moved in quickly. So there has not been ample time to clear fields of fire or to dig more secure fighting positions. We are all very wet, tired, and hungry, yet no one thinks of eating nor will there be much sleeping tonight. We are in what we call Indian Country" and are all aware and have witnessed the danger and death that surrounds us, hidden by the night.
So far the night has been good to us, yet further up the hill other positions are not so fortunate. The rifle shots bursts from machine guns, and explosions are heard. Even the aroma of the powder is mixed with the stink of the rotting jungle and smelled by us further down the hill. Those units are having a very bad night.
I am the radio operator for my squad. My squad leader, Corporal "Bear" Banks is positioned with me. I have known Bear since I have been "in country", some six months now. Bear is a big, strong. hairy individual from the back woods of Arkansas. le looks and even growls like a bear. He had been in country some four months when I arrived, and he took me under his wing. so to speak, to help me learn the ropes. He is a very friendly and outgoing man, always looking after the new men. Though only 19, he is senior man in our squad. The "old man", big chief squad leader, taking over from Sergeant Mclaclin, who has just completed his second tour. 'Bear' didn't want the job as squad leader, yet accepted it feeling his knowledge might help save a life. He's now been here over ten months and will soon be going home. He loves pointing to those big, beautiful "freedon birds flying high ovechead and reminding us how little time he has lett. It has become a ritual every morning as our squad gathers around while Bear checks another day off his short-timer's calendar. Everyone thinks the whole world of Bear', especially me. When I was wounded two months ago, it was 'Bearwho cared for me through the night and carried my gear while I was in the hospital. Good ol' 'Dear'! You can always count on him.
Bear and I lie in the mud and listen to the hand set of my radio to the firefights higher up the ridge. We can hear orders, activity, situation reports, movements, cries for help, and casualty reports. It's like listening to a ball game on the radio. We hear what's happening play by play, but we never know the score. All we really know is that things are not so good and that certainly the choppers will be busy come morning. evaluating the dead and wounded.
The night is quiet for our platoon. It is lucky for us that ve have set in so late. "Charlie' can't pinpoint our positions. ile knows we'll be around for some time, so he will wait for a more opportune moment.
Dawn begins to break, and a false sense of security sets in on us. We made it through the night. Danger is still out there, but at least now we can see. But is that so good? Seeing is Sometimes Worse.