Monday, December 22, 2014  
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Commentary by Arnold Dyre

    I have been married to Beverly for more than 44 years. We will celebrate our 45th anniversary in May. That is a long time to survive most anything!
    Beverly is an intriguing person. She is weak, physically. I open all the jars. There is a game we play that begins with her asking me to twist off a jar lid. I take it and sometimes I, indeed, struggle but, always, after loosening the cap, I hand it back and say, “Sorry, I cannot open it.”
    Thereupon, Beverly takes it from me and easily twists off the top and mutters that I am “weak as water.”
    Beverly is not known for cooking, but she does her best cooking when I am dieting, tempting me with all sorts of good and fattening things to eat. Because Beverly does not generally cook, she always has on hand a vast assortment of candy bars, cookies, and ready-to-eat snacks.
    Beverly is stubborn. Perhaps a better word is determined. There is nothing Beverly cannot do or, more accurately, get me or someone else to do for her, when she sets her mind to it.
    For many years, Beverly was my secretary and, later, office administrator and paralegal at my law office. This is a woman who majored in fine art at Ole Miss and who successfully concealed from me that she could even type.
    I typed her college thesis for her using a portable manual typewriter. The paper had to be flawless, and I started countless pages over and over before I produced it correctly, complete with footnotes, all perfectly located and spaced.
   One day at work, my secretary was out sick, and I persuaded Beverly to come in to answer the telephone. I guess she got bored because, when I came back from court, she had typed everything in my out-box and had completely organized the office. That day, she began paying me back for typing that thesis for her!
   Previously, I have written about Beverly’s running out of gas multiple times, always in the same place between our house and the office. I have written about her driving while I was sleeping and waking me up to ask where we were and almost running out of gas that time.
    Beverly delights in traveling the back roads, wanting to avoid, at almost any price, interstate highways and the big trucks found on them. However, one time she and I were going through Atlanta or, rather, attempting to go around Atlanta, and found ourselves stuck in a traffic jam that rivaled the snow and ice caused tie-up recently witnessed on television in Atlanta.
    Beverly was driving, and I was navigating. She was letting me “have it” for allowing us to get in such a mess. Finally, declaring that she was not going to put up with the mess any longer, she turned off the freeway and drove through an opening between some shrubbery planted alongside and accessed an adjacent frontage road, all the while as I was telling her, “Beverly, you can’t do this!”
    As she did it, she replied, “I believe I can!”
    Perhaps, not surprisingly, several other vehicles followed suit and escaped the freeway prison. All they had needed was a leader!
    We went along the frontage road as well as neighborhood streets for many blocks before getting back on the interstate; however, it turned out that Beverly had miscalculated and had gotten back into the heavy traffic too soon, but, no problem, she simply found another gap in the shrubs and created her own exit again.
    She led another group of followers to freedom that time, as well!
    There is no need to argue with Beverly. She is right even when I am not wrong. I stay in the race only by getting up before she awakes!


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