President Joe Biden and My Husband

…

How dare I compare the two gentlemen you might wonder, yet that’s exactly what I will do. Perhaps it’s not so much a comparison more of a reminder of how relationships, marriages, love, and aging work.

My husband is my knight-in-shinning armor, always has been, and always will be. Love is kind and doesn’t age, yet it changes quite a bit over time.

I made it from lover to nurse there for a while, from partner to bodyguard, or something equally protective over the one who has been so strong for so many years. It works both ways, he is protective over me as well. That’s part of the love deal we commit to when we say “I do and I will.”

…

I have read the news, and have seen parts of the presidential debate, and President Joe Biden’s performance, showing his high age so clearly, is hard to forget. (May I add I think both men are too old to serve as public servants.)

After the debate Jill Biden told her husband “Joe you did good, you answered every question,” and it was then that I knew that she looks at her aging husband the same way I look at mine. We still see the young man, the strong partner they have been for so many years, and this will never go away. But somehow we also notice them aging and that’s when our protective instinct kicks in.

Yet, perhaps there is a difference. While Jill Biden treated her husband with kindness, even though it sounded a lot like she was talking to a 3rd grader, I apparently don’t treat my husband the same way. Actually, I might come across as quite bitchy, even cruel at times. I am five years younger. I am ‘only’ sixty, and my husband just turned sixty-six two months ago. The age difference didn’t mean much when we were younger, but now, at the end of our careers and the beginning of our hopefully long and beautiful golden years, I can often feel it.

It happened yesterday around 6 pm in my workroom.

My husband sat down on the other side of my work surface as he does so often in the evenings. The dogs were all over him, he opened a can of Miller Light that was stashed away in my minifridge, had a big sip, and exhaled. It had been a long day for both of us. Our days start early between 5 and 6 am during the week.

We knew he would be working out of town next week but we didn’t know where.

“I am going to Austin, Texas,” he said and I didn’t respond right away. Texas, that’s where our roots are, that’s the state we left behind when we lost everything.

“That’s an 18-hr drive,” I said and he nodded. My husband will be one of the drivers. A crew of eight men will work in Texas, two semi-trucks and one straight truck will transport the equipment and the men. My husband is not a truck driver, he is a project manager/supervisor but drives the trucks now almost daily to the local job sites because he can pass any drug test at any time, which is rare these days with the legalization of marijuana.

“That’s a short job,” I added. “Two days driving down there, one day of work, and two days to come back home.” I assumed the drive time would be the same as a normal workday. Eight hours?

“We are allowed to drive 14 hours straight, that’s the law,” I was informed and he quickly found the rules and regulations in his smartphone.

…

And sure enough, he was right:

• Drivers can drive up to 11 hours daily, but only after ten consecutive hours off-duty.
• Each workday, drivers can only operate their vehicles within a 14-hour window. This window starts when they first begin working, not just driving.
• Drivers must take 30-minute breaks anytime they have driven for eight straight hours.
• Drivers cannot drive more than 60 hours in seven days or 70 hours in eight days, which resets when they take 34 consecutive hours off.
  

Great! What kind of supergenius has made these rules? Drive eight hours, have a thirty-minute break, and drive another six hours? No difference between professional truck drivers and drivers who drive a truck occasionally?

I am unsure if it’s just me, but I have inside conversations going on in my head that could fill a book. One voice vs the other. Mostly the voice of reason vs the one that might not be so reasonable. This time it was The Good Wife vs Bodyguard Wife.

“Where are the other jobs?” I asked because I like to have all the facts before the fight, and yes there would be a battle if needed.

“Cleveland, Oh, and Michigan,” Super duper, two jobs with only three or five hours drive time.

Turns out my husband had been scheduled to go to Cleveland but at the last minute they switched jobs and drivers because one of the drivers was not experienced enough, and that’s why my knight-in-shinning armor will drive endless hours toward the South.

“They think one is too young and not experienced enough?” I had to laugh when I said it. “So a genius in your company had the wonderful idea that a 66-year-old man should be driving 14 hours straight?”

There it was, I had just dropped the age bomb and it didn’t happen by accident.

“What? I have done it before, it’s not a big deal,” my better half insisted.

“Honey that was 12 years ago.” I politely reminded him but he didn’t want to hear it. “Same difference,” he said and added, “I can still do it.”

Battles are fought in different stages, just like an opera concert. There is an overture (like a prologue in a book) then there are various acts, even duets sometimes, and at the end, there is the Grand Finale.

“Twelve years ago you didn’t doze off in the evening when we watched TV.” I reminded him because it is the truth. We both doze off now, or we rest our eyes for a minute, whatever you want to call it. I often joke that we know the beginning of the movies, but seldom the end.

“So you are telling me I am too old and senile,” he contered and the tone in his voice showed that my remark had hurt his feelings.

And that’s when I thought about President Joe Biden. Goodness, how does a wife tell her husband that he is too old for some things? Maybe the same way I told my grandma that she should come down the ladder when she had set her mind on picking plumps? “Grandma, that’s no longer your job,” I had told her back then and I had spoken loud and clear, and to my surprise, she didn’t argue with me. I was only sixteen then, but I was tall and strong and obviously clueless because I had overlooked the simple fact that she could have turned me into stone with just one look.

How does Jill Biden tell her husband that he should step down as President of the United States because he is showing (and acting) his age and it can’t be overlooked?

How do I tell my husband that I don’t want him to drive 14 hours straight, even though he still might be able to do it, but he is also showing his age and that’s a gamble I am not willing to take? Honey, you are too old to drive for 14 hours? Is that what I want to tell my husband? Or Honey I am scared you might doze off? or Honey, I am scared something might happen when you drive for so long?

How do you tell someone that he or she is too old if the person himself is a bit in denial?

It’s about dignity, about character, and in the end, it’s about love.

“You will never be old in my eyes, but we both are getting older and there is nothing wrong with it. We are still fit like a tennis shoe, but we are older shoes now and there are certain things we can’t do any longer, or perhaps shouldn’t do,” I finally said.

“So you don’t want me to drive to Texas,” he asked me, even though it wasn’t really a question, more of a last attempt, a last uproar, a final statement.

“All it takes is one second to doze off, you tell me?”

I will not tell him what to do, he never tells me what to do either. All I have to do is plant a seed. It will grow in the darkness of the night before he falls asleep when his mind will rewind the day, or tonight at our movie night. The seedling will blossom and in the end, he will make the right decision.

He might be older, but he is still sharp as a whip -and so am I (I hope.)

I hope Jill Biden and her family are planting seeds as well.

Will my husband drive to Texas? I don’t know. How long does it take the seedling to bloom?

…