Why My Third Husband Will Be A Dog (16 page)

If they had picketed mine, this Grand Marshal would have given them a swift kick. In heels.

Because Columbus wasn’t alone in his mistakes. The colonization of many countries, including this one, produced some of the worst injustices in human history. We all used to think that might made right, and it’s a lesson we haven’t learned completely, even today.

And what is undeniable about Columbus is that he set out into uncharted territory, against all odds, risking his life to follow a dream, believing profoundly in himself, and God. Columbus’s diary of his journeys, and he kept excellent notes, reveals that his crews were profoundly religious men, praying often. They were praying that Columbus was right.

They didn’t want to fall off the edge of the world.

I thought about Columbus then, and about our own uncharted territory, both the good and bad. A new baby; a new diagnosis. Love is uncharted territory. So is life. We truly do
not know what will happen to us tomorrow. All of it is un-mapped to us, yet we sail on.

We will make mistakes.

We will be capable of great cruelty and great kindness.

We will meet those who love us and those who don’t. They might even picket our parade. Some call them haters. I call them book critics.

We might not find exactly what we were looking for.

And the odds are that we will find things that others have already found. Just this morning I discovered again how wonderful it feels to have the sun on my face. It’s not a new discovery, or one as big as a continent, but it’s still a thrill. And I get credit for making it. So do you.

All of our little discoveries will be new to us, and the happiness they bring can’t be underestimated, nor should they be. They shouldn’t go uncredited, either, nor should our efforts. On the contrary, both should be celebrated, our voyages and our discoveries.

We are all of us explorers in this life.

Christopher Columbus reminds us to sail on, to have faith, and to trust that we won’t fall off.

Andiamo.

Let’s go.

Let us now praise interrupting.

I know it’s an unpopular position, but I’m not one to shy away from controversy. I’ve already admitted to emergency-room bralessness and spitting out Dead Whoppers.

I have a habit of interrupting, and now I’m going to make a case for it.

Interrupting has gotten a bad rap for too long. Those of us who interrupt aren’t being disrespectful. We’re just excited by whatever it was you just said. We’re so excited, in fact, that we can’t wait for you to finish saying it before we respond.

You can’t blame us if you’re a great conversationalist.

The subject of interrupting comes up because recently I had dinner with best friend Franca. You have to trust me when I tell you that Franca is an angel. She’s not only a great mother, she’s a brilliant lawyer who represents children with special educational needs, and she’s dedicated to her job, her clients, and their families.

But she interrupts, and so do I.

We interrupt each other all the time. You know that cliché about the friends who are so close that they finish each other’s sentences?

Don’t believe a word of it.

A really close friend will never finish your sentence. A close friend will interrupt your sentence and say something new. After all, you knew what you were going to say. Don’t you wanna hear something else?

I could never be friends with anyone who wouldn’t interrupt me. I can’t imagine eating dinner with someone who sat there in stony silence while I talked. Likewise, I would never be so rude as to
not
interrupt a friend. How else would she know I was listening?

Franca and I could finish each other’s sentences if we wanted to, but we don’t want to. We’re both so excited by what the other one just said that we can’t wait to add to it, elaborate on it, or give another example. Plus, we know that the end of each other’s sentences isn’t always necessary. In our sentences, we get to the point right away, and the rest is usually repetition.

So the other night when we had dinner, we interrupted each other constantly through the appetizer, and by the entrée, we were interrupting each other so seamlessly that we were both talking nonstop at the exact same time. What a great conversation!

We weren’t offended. We were excited!

If you’re not buying my excited argument, try this one: it saves a lot of time to have two conversations at once. Interrupting is multitasking, only with words. That night, if Franca and I had conversed in the mundane, conventional, taking-turns-in-preschool way, we’d still be at the restaurant.

Interrupting is efficient.

Interrupting saves energy.

Interrupting is green!

And when I looked around the restaurant that night, I much preferred our table to the others. At those tables, there were
couples, but none of them was talking. I gather this would be the height of good manners, with nobody interrupting anybody.

There was even a table with a couple who wasn’t talking, and between them sat their toddler, who was watching Winnie The Pooh on a portable DVD player. I guess they brought the video so their child wouldn’t interrupt their not interrupting each other. The only one talking at that table was Tigger, who was interrupting Pooh.

Tigger’s excited!

And help me out here, but don’t you think that your opinion on interrupting depends on whether you run on estrogen or testosterone?

Case in point. I didn’t even realize that anyone thought interrupting was rude until my second marriage. Thing Two did not like to be interrupted. One day, he said to me, “Will you ever stop interrupting me?”

I answered, “Why?”

So you can see how it didn’t work out.

And in my experience in aggravating people, I’ve noticed that women are never aggravated when you interrupt them, and men always are, based on my sample of Thing Two and a couple of testy dates, which I admit might be statistically slim.

The exception is Chris Matthews.

I love Chris Matthews. I should have married Chris Matthews. Chris Matthews interrupts all the time and doesn’t even apologize. On the contrary, the whole point of his TV show is interrupting, which he has redefined as a sign of intelligent conversation. This was a genius move by a guy who just likes to interrupt. It’s not rude, it’s
Hardball
.

It’s the boy version of
Excited
!

Compare and contrast with
The View,
a TV show in which
four women are always interrupting each other. It’s not seen as intelligent conversation, it’s seen as a hen party.

So please, discuss among yourselves the issue of interrupting.

And remember, show your excitement!

Thanksgiving is about family, so I thought I’d ask daughter Francesca for her thoughts about the day. We spend so much time talking to and teaching our children that sometimes it’s nice just to ask them what they think, and listen to the answer. So take a minute this Thanksgiving to ask your own baby birds what they think about the day, and listen to whatever they chirp up with.

Because I bet that the thing that you’re most thankful for is them.

From Francesca:

My family is small. Since it’s only my mom and me at home, our Thanksgiving has never been the Martha Stewart production it can be for some other families. My dad’s family has Thanksgiving in New York; my grandmother and uncle have Thanksgiving in Miami. My mother and I buy a last-minute turkey, make up some wacky ingredients for a stuffing, and eat together with Frank Sinatra playing in the background and a lot of warm, furry dogs warming our feet. It has always been nice, and I know we’re lucky to have each other, but sometimes it has just felt small.