Handkerchief
My husband uses handkerchiefs. They come through the wash, thin, cotton cloths, clean and ready for his next slimy blow. Today I folded the origami-like squares and shoved them in his pile. Growing up, I got paid a dime to iron each of my dad’s handkerchiefs. When I was a kid, I took the handkerchief at face value, something quirky that dads used. But now, every time a handkerchief comes through the laundry, I question its purpose. Doesn’t John, my husband, know that I buy cases of tissues at Sam’s Club? I don’t understand the handkerchief and sometimes I don’t understand my husband.
It isn’t just the handkerchief I question. The toenails that end up behind the couch have me baffled. His ability to watch Band of Brothers or The Dirty Dozen when Merritt is screaming and the phone is ringing is perplexing. And bathroom habits are so puzzling, that after seventeen years of marriage, I’ve just stopped wondering.
With the vast differences between men and women it is a wonder we live together at all. When asked to respond to the question, “What makes a happy marriage?” Dick Cheney, the vice-president, replied, “Separate bathrooms.” I am convinced that the problems John and I share have nothing to do with the amount of love or respect we have for one another, but have everything to do with sharing personal space.
I can tell the kids to hang up their towels, put away their laundry, and eat all food in the kitchen. But, I don’t tell my husband. I used to try, but hey, he had a mom. Some of the worst battles John and I shared were when I thought I could change his habits. So I’ve stopped trying. I’ve decided God knew what He was doing when he created us different, so who am I to try to change him? So yesterday when I found those toenail clippings, I vacuumed them up and thought about his endearing wit and his playful barbs. He makes the whole family laugh and keeps life from being too serious.
Yes, he may still carry a handkerchief, something I find disgusting and old-fashioned, but he can also wipe ice cream off Graham’s chin or coffee off the car seat. I may not always get him, but it really doesn’t matter, because I’m not going to change him. I’ll just thank God for our individual quirky habits and put out more bottles of Purell.
7 Responses to “Handkerchief”
February 28th, 2007 at 1:25 pm
While reading this blog, I had to blow my nose, I used my handkerchief which I always keep in my back pocket - left side. On the right side back pocket I always have my wallet, front right poket is the cell phone and the cloth for cleaning my glasses, front right is keys and coins. I don’t like to keep too much change in my pocket, it becomes to heavy, so I’ll be sure to use change to pay for something when it gets too much. When I leave in the morning, I always make sure everything is in the right spot, I’ll pat each pocket to check. If its not there, then I know I screwed up the night before and didn’t put it away in correct area. Nowwww….. my wife’s purse - you can’t find anything in it since there so much of it and no clear order to it — but if you ask her, she knows where everything is. And on those mornings when I can’t find my keys because I put them down someplace out of the standard — most likely if I ask her she knows where they are — same with the kids shoes — “look behind the sofa in the basement” - yep there they are. How does she keep track of all this information from day to day? I don’t know how she does it, but it works for her, just like my way works for me. By the way, you don’t want to know how I decide when to turn in the used handkerchief for a clean one.
February 28th, 2007 at 1:56 pm
I didn’t even know men still used hankerchiefs. I remember my dad always using them when I was little…but even now at 50 he’s given them up for Kleenex! That’s so funny!
Very true about the differences between husband and wife. If I listed all of the odd things about my husband that drove me up the wall I’d have a list too long to number!! I just, like you, have learned to live with it and accept him for who God made him to be!
February 28th, 2007 at 9:27 pm
I had to laugh - I used to fold my dad’s handkerchiefs when I was little. He still uses the BIG red ones for everyday and the white ones for Sundays and special occasions. When I was young I just thought that was something all Dads had in their pockets. I learned later it was something that made my Dad special. Thanks for bringing back the memory!
February 28th, 2007 at 10:02 pm
I have a handkerchief. A friend at our old church was trying to bring them back in style, and one day when I was weepy during service, or maybe had a cold, he gave me one and said I could keep it.
February 28th, 2007 at 10:37 pm
I’m laughing because my father is the same way and he’s trying to teach my 10 year old to be the same way. The last time we went to visit, he said “Papaw! Do you hear that? It’s the change jingling in my pocket!”
But he’s not real into the hankerchief…
Thanks for the banter…
Heather
March 1st, 2007 at 8:24 pm
I can tell you from 74 years of experience that having a handkerchief in my pocket is as important as a billfold (almost). My mother taught us early on. Maybe tissues weren’t as common back then, but a hankerchief had many more uses than a kleenex. Of course, the important decision is when to toss it in the laundry basket. I have to admit that, like John, sometimes I wait a bit too long to do that. Oh well, it’s those little things in life that keep us on our toes and make us appreciate one another..
March 7th, 2007 at 6:14 pm
I always carried a handkerchief when I wore a suit everyday. They came in handy for my wife at weddings, funerals and sad movies. Now that dress has become more casual, and I try to simplify my life at every opportunity, I’ve been caught without one on a couple of critical occasions when Connie has been moved to tears. I try to remember to carry one whenever the event might become emotional as it is still expected that a tap on the arm produces one from my pocket. I guess I can always offer my sleeve?