The Smooth Edges of Young Love

Act I and Act II

Issue #28/ Welcome to the Good and Beautiful Things newsletter. Whether you are new here or you’ve been around for a while, thanks for stopping by!

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Act 1 / Smooth Edges

(1998)

I was twenty and he was twenty-five the summer we drove around in his brand-new, forest green, Saturn Eclipse. Through my smitten eyes, a golden glow surrounded everything he did. A bell of perfection rang out after everything he said. If I happened to spot any hint of imperfection in this boy, his smile and the way he looked at me smoothed any rough edges. 

During our car rides he introduced me to the (many) genres of music that he loved — but electronic music remains the most prominent in my memory. As we listened to the constant yet ever-evolving beats that resounded from the speakers, I learned exotic terms for the subgenres like “Jungle” and “Trip-hop”. My heart incorporated the music into the smooth edges of our time together.

As a theater student, I was used to people wearing their personality on the outside, with Kool-Aid dipped hair and chokers. It intrigued me that this boy in his Tommy Hilfiger button-up didn’t advertise his funky side. Sharing his music made me feel like I was privy to his inner world. That summer, those electronic rhythms became the soundtrack for falling in love.

After we got married, I discovered I loved the boy who loved the music but not the music itself. I don’t know how long it took for my feelings toward the music to change but it seemed like it happened overnight. My ear recalibrated after the wedding bands were placed, or maybe after (as they say) the honeymoon was over. Soon the repetitive beats began to drive me crazy. 

He was confused and disappointed by my sudden rejection of his music after I’d embraced it so completely when we were dating. He wondered if I’d just been pretending all along to win his favor. But I hadn’t lied. I’d fully believed my enthusiasm for the music while we’d existed in the golden bubble of young love.

Twenty-four years later, I still don’t think he believes me. He occasionally teases me about it, no matter how many decades have passed.

Our kids are as familiar with this story as they are with their Dad’s electronic music, which he still plays in the car. We’ve told the story as an illustration of how love can transform the senses, if only for a season. 

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Act 2 / Battery-Powered Love

(2023)

If dating smoothed the rough edges and made us seem more alike than we were, a few decades of marriage have revealed all of the differences.

Let me set the scene for you:

Twenty-five years have passed since our dating days. It’s our first full day of our vacation in Southwest Harbor, Maine. We’re here with our four children who are twenty-two, twenty, eighteen, and fourteen. Maine has welcomed us with its beauty but not its weather. We’re thankful for the rain jackets we purchased for the trip.

When we arrived in Maine from Nashville the day before, our 20-year-old daughter met us at the Bangor airport, after traversing several flights from Paris to the States. I planned this first day with a lot of flexibility for her sake but she’s never one to miss out on anything, so she’s with us as we embark on a wet, chilly hike alongside Echo Lake. We scramble vertically over slick boulders and after forty-five minutes of hiking we return to our rented minivan.

I’m standing in the open doorway of the middle seat, checking in with our jet-lagged daughter to see if we need to head back to the rental house.

“How’s your battery level?” I ask her, choosing that phrase because she herself had used it earlier.

Instantly my husband calls from the front seat:

“Did someone say they need a battery?” 

He holds up a large, portable battery we brought along to charge our cell phones.

The kids and I burst out laughing. 

There couldn’t be a better illustration of our two contrasting approaches to life. I’m a constant barometer, always testing the atmosphere for my family’s emotional and physical needs. My husband is always prepared to tackle the practical problems. The kids go to him when they need their computer fixed or have a question about car insurance or can’t get the toilet plunged. The lines of help are clearly divided between the two of us. And both sides are essential aspects of our family.

Just like my rejection of electronic music has become a part of family lore, I know the battery story will also follow us forward.

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All the Chapters In Between

In between these bookend chapters, there are so many other chapters of this marriage. God was gracious not to tell us the whole story at the beginning or we may never have made it to this chapter. Some chapters are love stories — our first kiss on the beach, my bare feet and his dinosaur socks on our wedding day, and the first time we held each of our children. Some are war stories — us against each other, against illness, against death. Some are not so easily categorized, but each chapter contributes to the bigger story. God may have brought us together with the golden glow and the smooth edges, but he’s holding this thing together with something stronger. Maybe we’ll find out what it is by the end.

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From the Sketchbook

Two quick, loose paintings based on the harbor in Maine at sunset.

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Favorite Finds

There is a theme that runs through this week’s Favorite Finds. I love a behind-the-scenes look at someone who will go to extremes for their passion. I love to hear about the process behind a person’s craft or career. Maybe you do, too.

Books

At Large and At Small by Anne Fadiman— I started reading this collection of essays with the hope of furthering my own writing craft. And while I am learning a lot about the shape of essays from Fadiman’s work, I’ve also been thoroughly engaged and entertained. I’ve learned something shocking about the writer Charles Lamb, co-author of the beloved Tales From Shakespeare. I’ve learned how to make homemade ice cream with liquid nitrogen and why, as a night owl, I will probably always be a night owl.

TV Series
The Bear (On Hulu) — This fictional series follows a chef as he tries to save a chaotic family restaurant, a legacy from his brother’s death. It’s easy to believe that this is a documentary because the actors do such a wonderful job inhabiting these characters. I love getting to see behind the curtain of the restaurant world even though I would never personally want to work in that environment. Between the excessive language and the characters’ intense interactions, it’s not going to be a good fit for everyone.

Tour De France: Unchained (Netflix) — A documentary series about the biggest bike race in the world. I knew pretty much nothing about bike racing when I started episode 1 but after just a few episodes I had a much better grasp of what the athletes endure as well as the specific dynamics and rules of the race. My best compliment for it is that it fully captured my attention and I typically don’t watch sports of any kind, much less sport-themed documentaries.

Podcasts
Happy, Sad, Confused — This podcast features interviews with actors and directors. Though I usually click on an episode featuring an artist I’m familiar with, I also find myself clicking on names that I don’t know. Either way, I enjoy the exploration of craft whether I become a fan of the artist’s work or not. A few recent interviews that I’ve enjoyed:

• Bryan Cranston: actor best known for Breaking Bad. As someone who didn’t have the stomach for that show, I still thoroughly enjoyed this interview.

• Henry Mangold: director of the new Indiana Jones film

• Hayley Atwell: co-star of the latest Mission Impossible movie

On Fire with Jeff Probst — I’m twenty years late to Survivor Fandom, but for the last few years I’ve been catching up on the seasons, which makes for a nice escape from my regular life. I just found this podcast series, recorded alongside the most recent season of the show. As someone with an insatiable curiosity, I loved learning the details of planning, designing, and filming this series. After listening to these episodes, I now give Jeff Probst considerably more credit for the creative hand he’s had in the show.

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Blessings from the Guest Nest,

-Aimee