Can Tommy Come Out To Play?

"Did you call everybody?" she says, none-too-interested.

"Everybody," I answer, slugging at my umpteenth cup of coffee.

"So are you gonna go alone?" she seems to be prying now.

Jeez, you hate that. You know there are a hundred things around here that she wants you to do. Even more stuff around here that youwant to do yourself. But this is a question about climbing.

"Jeez, I really don't want to. I used to, it was just a matter of fact. It was either go by myself or not at all..." You start to ramble, but she's hip. She interrupts your vector.

"So you're not going."

You don't like the way she says that. It sounds like an order or something, not a question. You stare blankly at her. She has her arms crossed, her lips shut tight, and she leans back a little bit as if to sum it all up as she scrutinizes her husband. Your hands are deep in your pockets, as though you are searching for something you desperately need...

"Uh... I might... I'm not sure yet."

"Well, I would like to go to the fabric store; Kara has a party to go to, but she needs to buy a birthday present first; plus we need milk and bread..." she fires back in a rapid, prepared statement.

Now what?

If you're unwitting, you might murmur, or if you dare, protest just a little, or even say that you didn't know all this stuff was going on. Oh yeah: try that one.

Better be ready for the tiger's claw, if you're married to my lovely wife, fierce mother of five wonderful children, the woman who knowingly married a climber and fears not any man. Especially not that one standing directly opposite her, his hands in his pockets feeling around in there for something. Maybe a good hold?

"Uh, I didn't know all that stuff was going on..." you murmur, trying to look serious.

Uh-oh. She's about to rip you a new one.

This is the stuff of marriage. Oh, sure, there's Bliss. Oh, yeah, there is Companionship. It's all at a price. That's right. Marriage is also an ordeal.

Think back to those days when you were so lonely. You needed a dog-sitter, and there she was, dealing with your grumpy old mutt while you were off climbing whatever with your friends. You'd come back and sort out your slides, get back to work, plan the next climbing trip, eat right, drink too much, smoke too much, watch too much TV on those designated rest days... basically, just keeping to yourself.

Well, that's all over now. The vices are gone (smoking, drinking, sluggin' out in front of the TV), but sometimes, you forget.

Don't worry. She'll remind you. She is here to help you.

Funny how, even when your own flayed hide flies in your face, you don't yearn for those lonesome, simpler times. Maybe you reassure yourself that a weaker man would, but not you.

"What are you digging for in your pockets?" she seems to be a little annoyed. Maybe she wants your undivided attention?

"I'm not digging in my pockets," you tell her, quite innocently. Then you realize she is absolutely correct. Still, you weren't aware you were doing it.

Inattention to Detail: That's how you get in to trouble. It's how you got Tom in to trouble. It's how you got Jeb in to trouble. It's how you got Dan in to trouble. Quite innocently, you got all of your friends in to trouble with their wives, at one time or another. That's all right: they've gotten you in to trouble once in a while as well. They didn't mean to.

You walked right up to Tom's wife at work, trying to be cute. You said:

"Can Tommy come out and play?"

and she looked at you in a way that was not in the least bit amused. In fact, you realized this almost immediately, and shrank back like a child. You had the indescretion to mention it to your own wife. She said something like:

"Oh, that was smart. Remember that they have a six-week-old baby at home?"

Uh, no, you didn't even think about it. Not only that, you just admitted to your wife how thoughtless, in an absent-minded kind of way, you can be. All you wanted to do was go climbing with Tom, you tell your wife. Don't worry, she'll remind you some other time how you never think about anything but climbing. For now though, she tries to explain to you that parents with a six-week-old baby need to be around the house. If you're lucky, you'll get off easy with an evening of reminiscence about when your kids were just little babies... but Tom's wife? Oh, you're dead meat there, buddy. Forget it. He'll get to go climbing with you when all the other climbers he knows are busy and you're the only one left to call.

That's just an example. Jeb is wise to you now. It'll never happen again. That time he was driving his Volvo, on his way to meet you, and the bubba in the pick-up truck smashed in to him? It was Saturday, the only day a wrecker would come all the way up to the Pass to pick up the Volvo. But you told Jeb that since you guys were right there under the peak, you might as well climb it. And he agreed, even though he knew better. So you guys had a great climb, changing in to your hiking boots atop the 7-pitch route you'd just climbed, at sunset, a beautiful day on the mountain. Absolutely gorgeous.

You dropped him off. She asked him where the Volvo was. You didn't even get out the front door before she let him have it. She let you have a little taste of that too. You both shuffled your feet, but lucky for you, you had to get home, and it's a 3-hour drive, so you had to get going...

Yep, we love our wives. We love our climbing. One of my buddies always says of climbing:

"It's better than sex!!"

"Nahh. It's just different."

Copyright 1999 E.B.Boykin, Jr.