apparently an amateur naturalist, remarked on various weeds, bugs, and birds as we bounded along, and Joe confirmed her identifications. I can’t say I enjoyed the walk, although the Morgans enjoyed it almost fiercely. When it was over, Rennie went inside the house to write a letter, and Joe and I sat outside on the lawn in the two sling chairs. Our conversation, by his direction, dealt with values, since they’d come up earlier, and I went along for the ride:
“Most of what you told Rennie on the phone this afternoon was pretty sensible,” Joe granted. “I’m glad you talked to her, and I’m glad you told her it was beside the point whether you were making fun of her or not. That’s exactly what she needs to learn. She’s too sensitive about that.”
“So are you,” I said. “Remember the Boy Scouts.”
“No, I’m not, really,” Joe denied, in a way that left you no special desire to insist that he was. “The only reason I caught it up about the Scouts was that I’d decided I wanted to know you a little bit, and it seemed to me that too much of that might stand in the way of any sensible talking. It doesn’t matter at all outside of that.”
“Okay.” I offered him a cigarette, but he didn’t smoke.
“What really pleases me is that in spite of your making fun of Rennie you seem willing to take her seriously. Almost no man is willing to take any woman’s thinking seriously, and that’s what Rennie needs more than anything else.”
“It’s none of my business, Joe,” I said quiescently, “but if I were Rennie I’d object like hell having anybody so concerned over my needs. You talk about her as if she were a patient of yours.”
He laughed and jabbed his spectacles back on his nose. “I guess I do; I don’t mean to. When Rennie and I were married we understood that neither of us wanted to make a permanent thing of it if we couldn’t respect each other in every way. Certainly I’m not sold on marriage-under-any-circumstances, and I’m sure Rennie’s not either. There’s nothing intrinsically valuable about marriage.”
“Seems to me you put a pretty high value on your marriage,” I suggested.
Joe squinted at me in disappointment, and I felt that had I been his wife he would have corrected me more severely than he did.
“Now you’re making the same error Rennie made a while ago, before supper: the fallacy that because a value isn’t intrinsic, objective, and absolute, it somehow isn’t real. What I said was that the marriage relationship isn’t any more of an absolute than anything else. That doesn’t mean that I don’t value it; in fact I guess I value my relationship with Rennie more than anything else in the world. All it means is that once you admit it’s no absolute, you have to decide for yourself the conditions under which marriage is important to you. Okay?”
“Suits me,” I said indifferently.
“Well, do you agree or not?”
“Sure, I agree.” And, so cornered, I suppose I did agree, but there was something in me that would have recoiled from so systematic an analysis of things even if I’d had it straight from God that such happened to be the case.
“Well,” Joe said, “I’m not a guy who needs to be married under any circumstances—in fact, under a lot of circumstances I couldn’t tolerate being married—and one of my conditions for preserving any relationship at all, but particularly a marriage relationship, would be that the parties involved be able to take each other seriously. If I straighten Rennie out now and then, or tell her that some statement of hers is stupid as hell, or even slug her one, it’s because I respect her, and to me that means not making a lot of kinds of allowances for her. Making allowances might be Christian, but to me it would always mean not taking seriously the person you make allowances for. That’s the only objection I have to your making fun of Rennie: not that it might hurt her feelings, but that it means
“Most of what you told Rennie on the phone this afternoon was pretty sensible,” Joe granted. “I’m glad you talked to her, and I’m glad you told her it was beside the point whether you were making fun of her or not. That’s exactly what she needs to learn. She’s too sensitive about that.”
“So are you,” I said. “Remember the Boy Scouts.”
“No, I’m not, really,” Joe denied, in a way that left you no special desire to insist that he was. “The only reason I caught it up about the Scouts was that I’d decided I wanted to know you a little bit, and it seemed to me that too much of that might stand in the way of any sensible talking. It doesn’t matter at all outside of that.”
“Okay.” I offered him a cigarette, but he didn’t smoke.
“What really pleases me is that in spite of your making fun of Rennie you seem willing to take her seriously. Almost no man is willing to take any woman’s thinking seriously, and that’s what Rennie needs more than anything else.”
“It’s none of my business, Joe,” I said quiescently, “but if I were Rennie I’d object like hell having anybody so concerned over my needs. You talk about her as if she were a patient of yours.”
He laughed and jabbed his spectacles back on his nose. “I guess I do; I don’t mean to. When Rennie and I were married we understood that neither of us wanted to make a permanent thing of it if we couldn’t respect each other in every way. Certainly I’m not sold on marriage-under-any-circumstances, and I’m sure Rennie’s not either. There’s nothing intrinsically valuable about marriage.”
“Seems to me you put a pretty high value on your marriage,” I suggested.
Joe squinted at me in disappointment, and I felt that had I been his wife he would have corrected me more severely than he did.
“Now you’re making the same error Rennie made a while ago, before supper: the fallacy that because a value isn’t intrinsic, objective, and absolute, it somehow isn’t real. What I said was that the marriage relationship isn’t any more of an absolute than anything else. That doesn’t mean that I don’t value it; in fact I guess I value my relationship with Rennie more than anything else in the world. All it means is that once you admit it’s no absolute, you have to decide for yourself the conditions under which marriage is important to you. Okay?”
“Suits me,” I said indifferently.
“Well, do you agree or not?”
“Sure, I agree.” And, so cornered, I suppose I did agree, but there was something in me that would have recoiled from so systematic an analysis of things even if I’d had it straight from God that such happened to be the case.
“Well,” Joe said, “I’m not a guy who needs to be married under any circumstances—in fact, under a lot of circumstances I couldn’t tolerate being married—and one of my conditions for preserving any relationship at all, but particularly a marriage relationship, would be that the parties involved be able to take each other seriously. If I straighten Rennie out now and then, or tell her that some statement of hers is stupid as hell, or even slug her one, it’s because I respect her, and to me that means not making a lot of kinds of allowances for her. Making allowances might be Christian, but to me it would always mean not taking seriously the person you make allowances for. That’s the only objection I have to your making fun of Rennie: not that it might hurt her feelings, but that it means
Similar Books
