Wherefore Art Thou, Babe?

 I never thought young adult fiction (or YA as it's known in the biz) was a thing before the sixties. Back in the day, books were just books. It didn't matter if the protagonist was just fifteen, like Jo from Little Women.  Now, bookstores and libraries have separate sections for teen fiction. It's too bad, really. A good book works for everyone.

As a YA author, it's impossible to write about teenagers without remembering the past. We are not merely grownups. We carry within us the toddler, small child, troublesome twelve year old and teenager filled with raging emotions that bewildered our parents and made us doubt our own sanity. 

Nowadays, teen protagonists are expected to become vampires (Twilight) or at least save their families. (The Hunger Games) But the author who really understood impressionable young readers is William Shakespeare. Turns out, he was the original YA author. The other night I watched a 2013 movie version of Romeo and Juliet and noticed how accurately he portrayed the messy yet emotional certainty of teen life. Juliet is about to turn fourteen, and Romeo's a few years older. In brilliant prose, Shakespeare sets out the magical combination of good looks, hormonally wired brains and the heavy hand of fate.

Romeo, whose family has a long standing feud with Juliet's, goes to a dance at her folk's place to spy on her cousin, the lovely Rosalind. He's told everyone about his deep love for the girl, but the moment he spies Juliet, that all changes. Juliet is his new true love. They spend thirty seconds dancing together and later that night, he climbs up onto her balcony to declare his feelings, which she reciprocates. Because Shakespeare is the playwright, the language is more eloquent than anything a reasonably intelligent teen could come up with nowadays. 

Romeo's balcony greeting: "With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; for stony limits can't hold love out, and what love can do that dares love attempt, therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me."

A modern teenage boy's greeting: 'S'up?' 

Different speech patterns but the raging hormones are the same. 

Some things never change. Like Romeo's next words. "O wilt though leave me so unsatisfied?"

And Juliet's answer: "What satisfaction canst though have tonight?"

Romeo: "The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine."

You see how he draws her in? Honestly, some things never change. Within a couple minutes of fancy talk, they've decided to get married. Romeo, with very little persuasion, asks a starry eyed priest to conduct the service. After that, all hell breaks loose with more family feuding until the end when they're both dead. Nowadays, two young teenagers couldn't find anyone to marry them, but society has lightened up a bit so there's no need to tie a ribbon on it, so to speak. I can't help wondering if Romeo and Juliet had just waited a couple of days, maybe things would have blown over. But that's the mother in me, rather than the teen speaking. It's fair to say that emotional attachments happen over the slightest things where teenagers are concerned. "I really like his hair." Etc. 

So here's to you, William Shakespeare. You've told the story the rest of us can never live up to. You nailed the yearning, the good looks, the love speak and the tension of 'will they or won't they get to do it?" He was right to kill them both, of course. The feud had to end sometime. Shakespeare might have been a romantic, but in the end, a hard lesson wrapped in the high falutin' themes of fate, won the day.  

Lean on Me

 I'm doing okay as a widow. Occasionally, it feels like a prison sentence where I'm locked up in solitary. Other days, I'm released early for good behavior. What took a while to manage was my ability to stand alone, metaphorically. Even grumpy couples might not notice how they've leaned in over the years. It weaken's their ability to stand alone, but that's how it should be.

There's the kind of leaning where responsibilities have been divided and then taken for granted. This way of life is like a dance. If one partner stumbles, the other notices. "You forgot the box in the car? I thought you were bringing it in! Yes, now!!" That kind of thing. Or there's my kind of stumble. I was driving around Winnipeg during rush hour, missed a turnoff and ended up in a parking lot. My husband didn't make a single snarky remark. I don't think I'd have been as nice.

Something I miss is the check in. There were times I wanted to push the button and set off a nuclear war on Facebook, but he'd always say, what for? If you ever see a post from me that is startlingly rude or extremely aggressive, please know that he is feeling badly about it. I never published blogs without my husband giving me thumbs up  or down, until he died. He would never have gone for the one I wrote a few weeks ago titled, 'How to Make a Porno.' 

'You don't need to celebrate every dumb move,' he might say. Also, (this might surprise his friends) he could be very straight laced. In some ways, when I do something I think he might not approve of, there's a small part of me that feels a bit vengeful. 'You died, so take that.' 

There are humorous moments where one partner acts as goalie on a two person hockey team. Once, while attending a teacher's dance, a woman walked straight up to me on the dance floor. Her husband, in this instance, was the goalie. He took his eye off the puck for just a moment and his wife took the chance to score. She put her hands on my breasts, and gave them a resounding squeeze. 'Are these real?" she asked. 'Why yes, they are," I replied, happy I'd worn my sister's black dress that was 'cross your heart' supportive. I felt very complimented. A few minutes later her husband came rushing up, her coat over his arm. 'I'm so sorry about that!' We can't catch every crazy move our partners make, or monitor every drink. I have teased  my friend about this incident more than once. 

Your partner can also be your reality check. For example, in the interest of reducing plastic and embracing my inner earth goddess, I'm using a deodorant that's just a salt rock. You wet it and rub it on. (It was a gift from the breast squeezer...we're much closer, now.)The problem is, I can't tell if it's working or not. It's very hard to check yourself out. My friends are all too nice to tell me if I'm getting a little funky. My husband would take one sniff and say, 'By God, that's not working.' Although really, he didn't have a great sense of smell, so who knows?

It's very easy to lose track of the times we receive support from our partner because we're too busy nitpicking over the things that bother us. My husband could clean the driveway and shovel the sidewalks and the first thing out of my mouth would be, 'You're not wearing that old coat anywhere else! (He loved decrepit looking barn coats.) 

It wasn't that I didn't appreciate everything he did. It was just that we'd been leaning in for so long, I took a lot of things for granted. And when he went on his forever journey, it took a while for me to stop falling over. 

My point is, notice the moments when your partner holds you up. The times when they rush in to rescue you from a potentially embarrassing situation. It's good to stand on your own two feet, but even better to lean in and let someone else hold you up when the going gets tough. Happy Valentines Day to all the love birds out there. And also to mine, who's busy giving everyone in the next life a good laugh. Honey, I'll try not to criticize your heavenly outfit when I see you again.