HOW
I MARRIED MY HOUSEKEEPER
(AN
ODE TO MY WIFE - ERICA WILSON)
Copyright
Vladimir Kagan 2010
Fifty-three
years ago, I never thought that that is whom I would end up with!
I should have known better! Of
course, the Brits are known to be the best Nannies and remember, Upstairs
–Downstairs?…They know something about keeping a house! This comes from years
of squiring Manor Houses, Great Houses, and twenty room “Cottages” in Scotland.
It’s in the blood. Needlework should have given me another clue. Needle workers
are anally diligent. But how should I have known that fifty-three years later
would morph itself into a nudging (yea
loving) “Housefrau”.
This asset was not apparent for years… My bride,
fifty-three years ago was sporty, adventuresome and artsi-fartsi… even a bit
messy. (Largely due to the fact that she was the needlework queen of America:
Her stock in trade: wool yarns, cotton thread, scissors and snippets of
fabrics. She gave needlework classes to America’s hoy-poloy in our apartment.
The debris was scattered over the living room floor)…. But needlework brings
out another trait in its practitioners: They are very, very meticulous. How
else could they do such fine stitches and not go bonkers? (A pre-curser of
things to come.)
Erica circa 1958....stitching away in our apartment
For me Erica was the personification of “Auntie
Mame”… (Remember those great movies of that
amazingly ditsy matron who navigated through life on cloud 9? That’s my Erica! If it’s new, if it’s
out in left field…. it tickles her fancy. Always inquisitive and adventuresome,
she is receptive to every kooky idea. This is deeply rooted in her character! I
should have known too: it is the other asset in the British character. Get out,
explore and conquer the world! (The Brits did very well at that (In the good
old days it was said, “The sun never sets on the British Empire”. …. And
Erica’s forbears were a part of these phenomena.
In years past, she had always had a glossing of
liaise faire…. But now the “housekeeper” in her blood is coming to the fore….. Why am I not allowed to leave my shirt
drawer open in the bedroom? Shirts
are surely easier to retrieve the next time I need one. Why shouldn’t I leave
the kitchen cupboard doors slight ajar? It helps to air the china coming out of
the dishwasher and ventilated the cereal and cracker shelves. Tell me, why at
night, I can’t kick my discarded clothing into a chair? It assuredly makes life
easier when getting dressed in the morning. Slippers left under the bed, a few
shoes strewn around the bedroom…what’s wrong with that?
aerating the kitchen cabinets
Erica has tidy-itis. Nothing can be left out.
Everything must be concealed in the closet. (If any of you remember Fibber
McGee’s closet? That is ours personified. Open the door and an avalanche comes
flowing out.)
Worse, Erica’s memory is far too cluttered with
important things such as the distance of the sun to the earth, the negative
options on all the medication she and I take, new Galaxies being discovered,
and the end of the Space Shuttle. You name it, it fascinates Erica. But ask her
where she put things yesterday…. that evokes a long silent blank.
Every timely departure is a false alarm…. We
have never left our home without Erica having forgotten a last minute task or
two: the laundry, windows that should be open but are closed or vise versa…(This, to the utmost chagrin of her husband
who has an anal passion for being on time.) It applies to airline
departures as well as dinner dates…it’s all the same.
My beloved “Bohemian wife” has turned into a
pristine housekeeper who sees every speck of dust, smells the recently washed
glasses for “pond smells” (She insists glasses washed in the dishwasher do not
get thoroughly cleaned)….. If they are stored upside down, they acquire an
odor. You cannot store food in a cooking pot…even if it is stainless steel.
Plastic bottles leach nasty elements into the food. Bed sheets must have
embroidered tops to properly sleep in.
But,
this wonderful woman makes my bed, washes my dishes, does my laundry, cleans up
after me, tells me how to run my business…The list is endless. As I hobble
about on two canes, she looks after my every need…. Assisted living cannot get
any better!
Erica looking after her old codger!
Originally, I chose Erica, as the only girl with
whom I could live on a desert Island! She went sailing with me and did not
insist on moving the boom slightly to get more sunshine…we climbed Mt.
Washington with a back-pack of beer and skis to camp overnight in the snow (and
she hardly knew how to ski!)…. We skedaddled about in my glamorous red
Thunderbird, carefree and devoid of the rules of decorum….. What happened to
the beachcomber I married???
Erica, the good sport, sailing with me.