I've Never Been Right

I just returned from a wonderful trip to Park City, Utah, and tomorrow I celebrate thirty-one magnificent years married to my bride. Now you probably think these two facts don’t go together, but be patient and stay tuned.    

Looking back over the past three decades plus one year, I realize that whenever my bride and I have had a disagreement, I’ve never been right.  I prefer saying it this way rather than admitting I’ve always been wrong, but if the truth be told, the latter is probably a more accurate way of stating it.  Most men who are married will understand what I’m talking about. Let us just refer to it as the “Married Above Us Syndrome.”    

Lest you think I am exaggerating, trust me I’m not. I wish I were.  A recent cancelled trip to Yosemite is a perfect case in point. Around a month ago I came up with a splendid idea—a few days in Yosemite.  I booked a suite at the Ahwahnee Hotel with a breath taking view of the Half Dome. I arranged for a horseback ride, a tour of the Valley, and I even reserved a table with panoramic views for all meals at the hotel dining room. I planned to consume the “Half Dome” sandwich with alfalfa sprouts at the Yosemite Deli, and eagerly looked forward to shopping at Schat’s Bakery in Bishop on the way home.    

And then the Rim fire began and grew by acres and then by square miles.  It even entered Yosemite Park itself, and that’s when my bride started to have reservations about my reservations.  She thought it might be wise to reconsider. I am unfortunately not known for my powers of reconsideration. Each day as the fire spread I checked the Yosemite Valley, and the skies were perfectly clear. As Labor Day approached everybody from the Hotel staff to Park Rangers were welcoming all to come.  Nobody saw any reason to stay away, that is with the exception of my bride.    

I, of course, stood firm. Why, if everybody were telling us to come, who was she to question my decision.  The winds were heading Northeast as they almost always do which meant the smoke and fire would not come near us.  My bride simply wanted to know why the winds couldn’t change direction. I then became a meteorologist. “Pigs will fly when the winds there change direction,” I explained, not knowing remotely what I was talking about.    

My wife persisted.  She pointed out that Yosemite had been around for millennia and would be there another time. I ranted, I raged, and I then did what every husband should do—I relented. I reluctantly cancelled all the reservations, and we rebooked our trip to Park City, Utah.   

Right before we left for Utah I got an email from Yosemite which stated, “Up until Friday, August 30th, the fire had minimal impact on Yosemite Valley, however conditions have changed just recently causing moderate to heavy smoke in parts of the park. There is a California Air Quality alert in affect for almost all of Central California, including Yosemite…if you would like to change or cancel your reservations, please call us…”   

In other words, the wind had changed direction just in time to prove me wrong again. Tomorrow I can only wish for another thirty-one years with my bride during which I anticipate never being right.