THESE TIMES

Marriage in the age of plague

Kirk Ericson | Sep 21, 20230

This is a column that ran in the Shelton-Mason County Journal on March 4, 2021. Of the 308 columns the Journal has published of mine, this one is among my five favorites. I’ll return with original drivel next week... —Kirk

Mrs. Ericson and I were sitting on our living room couch recently while I did the crossword puzzle and she read the newspaper. This has become part of our morning plague routine. We sit on the couch in the early morning, drink coffee and I respond to comments she makes about the news, and I sometimes ask for help with crossword clues.

I was trying to figure out the 10-letter answer to the clue “order in the court” when Mrs. Ericson asked what I knew about QAnon.

“Not much,” I said.

After a long pause, she mentioned something about child-eating Satanists.

“You don’t say,” I responded.

I was stuck on a nine-letter word for “like cars in a junkyard” so I wasn’t hearing in the way that included listening. I wasn’t sure whether she said

QAnon people are for or against child-eating Satanists, but I’ve since learned QAnon people claim they’re anti-child-eating Satanists.

Me too.

As she continued reading the QAnon story, she mentioned a fellow from Alaska had been arrested for his involvement in the Jan. 6 invasion of the U.S. Capitol. His nom de insurrection was Baked Alaska.

“Baked Alaska?” I said. “Were you disappointed the first time you tasted the dessert baked Alaska?”

“No. I don’t think I expected much from baked Alaska,” she said.

“I did,” I said. “I always thought baked Alaska was a dessert for rich people. It was disappointing. It tasted like nothing.”

Long pause.

“What do you call that stuff on the outside of baked Alaska?” I asked. “It’s something like flambe, flake, fluff?”

“No,” Mrs. Ericson replied, trying to think of the word that was on the tips of both our tongues. “It’s eggy and …”

“Oh, I know,” I interrupted. “It starts with the letter M. Something like macrame, marmalade, marimba …”

“Oh, oh,” she said. “It’s meringue.”

“Fantastic,” I said. “Between the two of us we have a full vocabulary.”

Did you know one of the most difficult parts of writing a column is creating transitions between paragraphs?

Last weekend during our morning couch time, I asked Mrs. Ericson, “Did you like ‘Josie and the Pussycats’ when you were a kid?” After nearly 30 years of marriage, I should have known her position on that Saturday morning cartoon.

“I did,” she said.

I didn’t — the story and animation were nothing to switch the channel to. Then I started thinking about “The Banana Splits,” which was a cartoon from the same period that also wasn’t worth getting up and switching the channel.

“You know what ‘Josie and the Pussycats’ reminds me of?” Mrs. Ericson asked. “That cartoon that had the characters dressed up in puffy costumes. I can’t think of the name …”

“The ‘Banana Splits?’ ” I asked.

“Yes. That’s it,” she said.

To paraphrase the English poet John Lennon, marriage is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.

In conclusion, the 10-letter answer to the crossword clue “order in the court” is “please rise” and the nine-letter answer to the clue for “like cars in a junkyard” is “rust eaten.”