3 April

Parable: The Small Things. Maria And The Six Foot Ladder

by Jon Katz
The Six-Foot Ladder
The Six-Foot Ladder

When Maria and I started seeing each other six or seven years ago, I went shopping in a supermarket and bought her an Asian Pear. Being the country, the cashier asked me if I was making a mistake, she pointed out that I had never bought an Asian Pear before. “It’s for my girlfriend,” I said proudly.

The cashier beamed, and several women standing in line with me gathered around to praise me and point out their husbands would never think of such a thing. “It’s the little things,” the woman in front of me advised. “Never forget the little things.” I have not and will not.

At the time I got it Sunday afternoon, it did not occur to me that there was a timeless parable wrapped around this humble ladder, or that it would be making its way around the Internet in a few hours and I would receive so many sweet messages from people who think me a romantic.

It is a simple story, really. Most parables are.

Maria was standing on an eight foot ladder trying to repair one of our gutters, which was leaking a small river of water from melting snow onto the porch. I had offered to try to fix this issue, but as usual, gave up after the first round of gibberish from the people at the hardware store and was now standing bewildered nearby in the back yard with a camera hanging off of my neck.

Maria is filled with sudden observations and epiphanies, she is strange and surprising, almost anything can come out of her mouth at any time, usually in rapid-fire and intense delivery.

Her busy and artistic mind is like the inside of one of those kaleidoscopic plastic snow things, it swirls and dips and spins, changing times, tenses, images and moods almost simultaneously. it all makes perfect sense to her, but I find myself stopping, re-winding, focusing, repeating.  What did she say? And I am considered a fast talker if not a fast thinker. Maria is always astonished and sometimes annoyed by my pausing to absorb things, I think she thinks I’m not paying attention.

But mostly, I’m just trying to keep up.

I love her for this stream of ever-changing consciousness, she is never dull or predictable.

And thank God she can put these images and epiphanies into her art, or the top of her head might blow off. This afternoon, she turned at one point to me on the ladder and said “there are two things I missed from my first marriage. One was a green shovel and the other was a six-foot fiberglass ladder. It was the perfect size for me.” (Maria, as many of you know, is something of a runt. She has to reach up to open the refrigerator.)

She pointed down low to illustrate for me the size of the ladder, as if I were too dull to grasp it. She has little respect for my mechanical skills.

“I got a green shovel,” she pointed out, explaining to me that it was in the barn. “But I still miss the ladder.”

I did not think for a second of romance or love, what went through my mind was this: “A six-foot ladder is the only thing she misses from her first marriage. I can fix that, and then she will miss absolutely nothing from her first marriage. I have to do that, if I have to drive to Canada to find one.”

I said nothing but “I’ll be right back,” and she looked at me curiously.  I was on a mission. I knew what I had to do. I think I stunned her a bit, and before she could ask where I was going, which she would normally have demanded to know,  I called for Fate to jump in the car – Fate is up for anything, and I am working to persuade her not to jump on people at the hardware store  – and we took off for town and Ace Hardware.

Bryan and Nancy were there working and they pointed to the ladders propped up against the wall. Fate did not jump on anyone, I am happy to report,  (this is no small thing) and the first ladder I saw was this blue six-foot beauty, shining and leaning and calling out to me, take me home, big-boy.

As usual, Nancy and I wanted to know what I was buying the ladder for, and if Maria knew I was getting it. This has become standard question at the hardware store, I was not permitted to purchase an axe unless Maria was present.  And then she took it  away from me after I almost took my foot off trying to chop wood. My explanation prompted a 15-minute discussion on divorce, trolls (girlfriends of ex-husbands), holiday dinners with family at Easter, and horror stories about ex-spouses from customers and staff.

It is, after all, the country, we all want to hear everyone else’s stories.

I hauled the ladder out to the car, drove it back, Fate navigating. When I got home, Maria had fixed the gutter leak and came out.  She was very curious. When she saw the ladder, she beamed and teared up – I was surprised – and went inside to write about it.

She said it was the sweetest thing, praise usually reserved for donkeys and dogs and other animals.

Honestly, I didn’t think about buying the ladder, I just knew I had to do it. I would have driven around all day to find it, and the look on her face told me it was well worth it. It is, after all, about the little things.

Now, my wife doesn’t have to miss a single thing from her former marriage, and for one night at least, I can do no wrong. Well, maybe for an hour.

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