Romeo, Romeo
In all of time, in all of English literature, there was only one really great writer. I know this because I was, all at the same time, an English major, a Theater major, and a communications major in university. I know this because my Shakespeare professors told me it was so – and thus we spent the entire year studying the works of the Bard and discovering why he was so special. It was his understanding of the human condition which brought him such fame. His way with words that we still perform and quote today, both in Elizabethan costume and modern attire.
Shakespeare’s favorite topic was “love.” There is nothing more critical to the quality of a person’s life than this. We love our parents, our spouses, our friends, our children, our furry friends of every shape and size, and of course, our cellphones.
Hubby loved quoting Shakespeare when we were younger. (How appropriate to love quoting the man who wrote about love!) But I digress…
Hubby’s creative mind was sharp and it was not unusual for him to burst out not into song, but into prose as he shared different famous speeches from Shakespeare’s plays. His best friend and mentor in London had been older than he, a self-educated man with a thirst for knowledge. They competed as to whom could recite the most selections from their beloved Shakespeare.
Hubby courted me with Shakespeare. I was blown away. I know that I have said on other occasions that this optimistic and confident 26-year-old girl from Arlington Virginia never dreamed that she would meet a man so grand, so eloquent and so romantic.
Fast forward almost fifty years: Now that Hubby is unlikely to burst into a theatrical mode, he has instead become of one of the Shakespearean characters whom we all know… Romeo.
If you have read or heard the chapter which I wrote titled “The Sinatra Serenade” you have an inkling of what has evolved. Hubby, in his mind’s-eye is the quintessential romantic gentleman with an eye for the lovely women. In all fairness, he does try to use his charms on me regularly. But if truth be told, I simply do not have the energy to play along with his romantic comments and intentions. Still, you cannot keep a good man down, there are other fish in his sea.
Our full-time aide has been forced to create barriers of propriety between them. She calls him “Mr. D.” rather than his first name. When he tells her that he “loves her,” she does not respond. When he asks her if she “loves him,” she tells him that she has a husband and is happily married. Hubby is not at all sure that is a reason for her to resist his charms.
Because our aide needs time off to be with her husband and to recuperate from Hubby’s constant requirements, she replaces herself with female friends from her social circle. Hubby doesn’t really mind, as they are young and usually lovely. He makes sure that he sings along with Frankie, or Sammy Davis Jr., or Dean Martin, and performs for substitute caregiver at the dining room table. Something unique definitely happens in his brain as he is singing. The words become his own and he thinks that the female aide must be enthralled with his savoir-faire. It is really hard for me to sit at the table with them while he is telling one of them how pretty she is, what lovely hair she has, and ultimately that he loves her. This puts me in an invidious position… where I have no option but to inject myself into his folly.
The new substitute has no idea what to say. She may never have taken care of a dementia patient before. She is in shock and pretending to look at her cellphone, hoping that this too shall pass. I must admonish Hubby for saying such things to her. It is not that I am jealous, or have any emotional angst about his caring for someone else. It is simply that I realize that the young woman is either terrified or thinks his behavior is fine with me. Of course, it is not. Only by telling him that he must stop talking like that, does she know that I do not approve of his behavior even though I cannot control it.
So far, we have been lucky. Not one of the young lovelies have walked out in the middle of Hubby’s romancing advances. We are truly fortunate that he has not attempted to take any liberties other than verbal ones. There have been a couple of times when he has requested a kiss from one of them, but I always jump into the fray to tell him that such an idea is not appropriate. I must support the girls – especially if I want them to even consider crossing the threshold of our home once again.
While the girls have not flown the proverbial coop from his child-like approach to romance, there have been a few who have chosen not to return as I am sure they were uncomfortable and did not know how to respond.
There is so much that Hubby does not remember, but he does still want to look good when he leaves the house. Today was haircut day and our favorite hairdresser kindly came to our home to cut Hubby’s very long tresses. I joked that we would soon be putting his hair in a pony tail… and that would never do! Hubby’s vanity is intact and he asked me not once or twice when he could have a haircut, but at least a dozen times before we could make the arrangements needed. Deep in his subconscious is the knowledge that he needs to look good for his ladies, wherever they are.
I was going to title this chapter “The Lothario” but then I looked up the word. It is the name of one of one of Miguel de Cervantes’s characters in his 1605 novel, Don Quixote. The character was an unscrupulous lover of women, and as Hubby is never unscrupulous, I thought better of the idea. He is far more like Romeo from Romeo and Juliet… naive, sweet, and going against the fates in the pursuit of love. Welcome to my world!
