It seems as I have gotten older that I tend to talk more, maybe even a lot, and I received confirmation the other day when my wife, who is usually a good listener, started with the eye-rolling.
Upon my inquiry of this facial gesture, she informed me that I talk too much, even going so far as to say I teeter on speechmaking.
Well, they say “acceptance” is the first step toward recovery, so I must admit it, and don’t tell her I said this, but she may be right.
Maybe you get to a point in your life when you are set in your ways and opinions and have something to say about everything, or maybe I am one of those people who says too much about very little—not sure.
I went on a 10-mile bike ride the other day to my daughter’s home where I occasionally (more like weekly) am tasked with visiting their 2-year-old French bulldog Lola, and taking her for a spin around the block, followed by some frolicking on the sofa and other playfulness.
Anyway, I was riding and thinking about talking too much and was trying to figure out how I got like this and realized I even talk too much when I’m talking to myself. You get the funniest looks from people.
So, I decided to confess to my wife that she is right and I should do everything in my power to correct this habit.
To that end, I have decided to leave out certain subjects when we talk, starting with politics. I know the elections are coming up, and there are signs on all the lawns and street corners, and endless TV spots, but that does not mean I have to talk about it all the time. That’s what barber shops are for.
Then, there are my kids. I am so proud of them, one being a business owner and the other a successful carpenter for the NYC Housing Authority. And my daughter was recently married to a wonderful man, and they have a nice home close by and a French bulldog, as I mentioned.
Nonetheless, there is no reason why I must talk about them so much, surely, I can cut down, or die trying.
Then, there are my friends. I have known these guys; Ron, Rich, Chris and Stevie D for 50-plus years, and we do the texting thing every day and check up on each other, and go for lunch and to the stock car races, and they came to my daughter’s wedding, and they even shaved and wore suits, and I love these guys like crazy.
By the time I had biked to my daughter’s home, I realized that I should be able to omit a lot of conversation when my wife and I are talking. Of course, being out of breath may have had something to do with it. So, when my wife returns from her leaf peeping in New Hope, Pennsylvania, she will find a streamlined version of myself, and that should stop the eye-rolling.
At least that’s the plan.
However, if she expects me to stop saying “I love you,” that’s not going to happen–it’s non-negotiable.
Some habits are not worth breaking.
