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TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE Althea came over for coffee the other morning. “I’m getting worried about my relationship with Harry,” she confided, lighting a cigarette. “Last Saturday night he was laying on the davenport watching TV as usual. The kids were all sleeping upstairs, so I got this really brilliant up-to-date idea on how to get his attention and revitalize our marriage. Are you ready for this? I streaked from the bedroom, right through the living room and into the bathroom” “Althea!” I gasped in a shocked tone. “You actually did an authentic streak” “Yep” she admitted, stirring her coffee slowly. “What did he say?” “Nothing.” “What do you mean …nothing? I squealed. Roques would’ve had a heart attack….or at least fainted.” “Well, as I said, I streaked to the bathroom. I waited in there. Nothing happened, so I peaked out the door to see if he was still on the davenport. He was. Then I streaked back to the bedroom and waited …still nothing. I told you… I’m worried about our relationship. In fact, I think it’s dead,” she sighed morosely. “Now, don’t go running your marriage down,” I said sympathetically. “You and Harry are a perfect couple. No serious problems, no incompatibility….” “And no excitement,” she interrupted. “We just go on – day after day, -week after week, - year after year, and nothing changes. Everything is the same, “ she sighed. “Harry takes me for granted.” There was a long silence. We sipped our coffee, took deep drags on our cigarettes and contemplated the situation. Finally Althea spoke. “How do you keep your marriage so lively?” she asked wistfully. “I’ll bet Roques never takes you for granted.: I choked on a swallow of coffee. “Are you kidding?” I sputtered. “I’m so taken for granted I feel like Richmond …Hey! That’s not bad …do ya get it? …Grant takes Richmond?” “Cut it out. This is serious,” she said glumly. “After all, how would you feel if you streaked and Roques didn’t even notice?” “I’d have a stroke …get it? Streaked – stroke?” I chuckled. She gave me a gloomy look and headed for the back door. “Oh come on,” I said apologetically. “Sit down. I’m sorry. Now, let me see …you say Harry was watching TV?” She sat down reluctantly and murmured, “Yes.” “What was on?” “How should I know? What difference does it make anyway?” “A lot! Now try to remember.” “Well, I think it was some basketball tournament or something.” “A Basketball Tournament!” I shouted, jumping up. “That’s it!” “What do you mean?” she mumbled, not sharing my excitement. “For crying out loud, Althea, you didn’t streak during a basketball tournament, did you? No mere woman, I don’t care Who she is, could compete with a basketball tournament….don’t you know that? Now if you told me you streaked during The Mary Tyler Moore Show …I’d say you have a problem …but during a basketball tournament…” I ended the sentence with a big shrug. “…maybe you’re right,” she agreed, her face brightening. “Always remember, Althea,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulder in a sisterly fashion, “…there’s a time to streak and a time Not to streak.” “I’ll always remember,” she said gratefully. She went out the back door muttering to herself, “There’s a time to streak and a time Not to streak…There’s a time to streak and a time Not to streak…There’s a time…”
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THAT WEEKEND AWAY “Wouldn’t it be great to get away this weekend?” I asked Roquespiere. “Completely away….with no thoughts of work….no thoughts of bills….no thoughts of the kids….no thoughts of all the things that need fixing around the house?” Great?” he said as his face lit up. “It would be heaven! I should have done it months ago. Just me, my fishing rod and my cooler, in the peace and quiet of the wilderness….” “I MEANT you and ME,” I interrupted. “You and me, together, lounging around some motel, wearing our fingers to the nub dialing room service.” “Oh,” he mumbled and went back to reading the paper. “Just think,” I continued, undaunted, “of all the stagnant weekends we’ve spent this past year. Big Friday night comes, we watch T.V. and fall asleep. Big Saturday night comes, we watch T.V., make popcorn, drink a few beers, ground the kids and fall asleep. Big Sunday comes, we go to church, the only good part, then we watch T.V. and spend the day being sorry we grounded the kids ‘cause we have to listen to them fight. I mean, really! We DO need to get away. It would give us a whole new outlook on life.” “You know we’d never be able to find anyone in the whole state who would spend theweekend here with the kids.” “What about my sister. She hasn’t been around them lately and I think she even kinda likes the baby.” “Well, if you call her, just don’t mention the rumble that the kids are planning and don’t tell her about that stray dog that keeps getting sick on the porch.” “Yeah. And I won’t tell her about the chicken pox or that the john overflows.” “It worked!” I chuckled, as I danced around the room. “It worked! It worked! I had to do some fast talking, but it worked! She’s coming!! She mentioned something about doing extra penance for Lent and then she said she’d come!” Roquespiere grabbed my hands and we jumped around the room in circles. The kids came in. “What are you so happy about?” they asked. “Are you gonna have another baby?” We stopped laughing and sat down. “We’re going away for the weekend,” I explained, out of breath. “Where are we going?” one asked. “I can’t go,” said the oldest. “I’ve got a date for a dance and it’s semiformal. By the way, I’ll be needing new shoes, a new shirt, new pants, a corsage, the car, some money and probably my sport coat doesn’t fit any more.” “I don’t want to go,” said our daughter. “And besides my birthday is Sunday and I want to be with my own friends.” “Stop whining, all of you!” Roquespiere yelled above their voices. “Your mother and I are going away together. Just us, not you.” “I thought the baby was supposed to break out with the chicken pox,” one said. “And I’m sure not going to spend the whole weekend watching his pox pop out. Not on my birthday weekend! Uh-Uhhh!” “And I can’t babysit,” said the oldest, his eyes bugging. I TOLD you, I’ve got a date and by the way, I’ll need the credit card for gas, too.” “And me and the Born Losers have plans made,” said the other. “I’M sure not going to sit home with the little creep.” “Don’t worry,” we reassured them. “Your aunt is coming to babysit. And if you breathe a word to her about anything before we leave, we’ll have to jack your jaws.” ……..the silence of the motel room was deafening. “What do you want to watch?” asked Roquespiere, as he eyed the color T.V. and picked up the T.V. magazine that was laying next to the Gideon Bible. “Let’s talk,” I suggested. “Let’s really communicate. You go first.” (Silence) “No, you go first.” (Silence) “Well, I can’t think of anything right now.” “I can’t either.” He flipped through the magazine. “It’s almost time for “Sanford and Son….and Nightmare Theater looks pretty good tonight.” “Do you think the kids are O.K.?” I wondered out loud. “Maybe I should call my sister about the pox. I wonder if SHE’s had them.” “Guess what?” Roques said, his voice full of excitement. “Tomorrow the Cassius Clay fight will be on! We can buy some beer and watch it. It comes on right after the wrestling and the golf.”
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