John Brazell

Co-Dependent: That's Amore



Posted: Friday, June 05, 2009

by John Brazell

In our household we followed the sociological pattern of most long-term cohabitants and ants -- we became codependent.

"Codependent" used to be hyphenated but became a real word when Oprah said everybody's doing it. Note the first four letters spell "code", wordplay for "Somebody gets to be the queen and somebody else gets not to be the queen."

Though I took Psych 101 a long time ago, I still don't know how all this happens. My guess is it has something to do with voice volume, sugar and spice, and everything nice. Or maybe hammers and nails and puppy dog tails. Obviously I don't know.

The trend in our household is that I do - or don't do - basic things in our day to day living and she checks to see if I've done or not done them properly. Think copywriter/copyeditor ... water surfer/water boarder ... quiet desperation/desperate quietness.

Remembering our roles is never more important than when we're out traveling. Driving in strange places is a formidable task for whippersnappers and next to impossible for "Primetimers". Somebody's got to provide supervision and somebody's got to drive. I drive.

Then there's the problem of locating the motel, hassling for a Senior discount, finding the half-used can of Lysol spray, and determining who gets the bathroom first. Not all these issues have been entirely resolved though being faster afoot has some advantages. When vacating the motel, somebody's got to make sure you leave with all your stuff. She points to it and I lug it to the car which brings me, and you, to our recent trip to Dallas .

Since we dawdle along the back roads, we took, as usual, a bag of CD's, tapes, audio books and iPods -- some of our prized possessions. Second most valuable was a bag of every salty snack known to Mr. Frito and Mr. Lay. Should our car breakdown and there's a shade tree or comfort station close by I'm set for as long as the Everready's live up to their name, though I can't speak for her.

When we got to the motel, a nice one with interior corridors and pillows large enough to float on, I took the bag of earful entertainment and pushed it ever so gently under a table. Aha, it's out of the sight of any interloper who happens in while we paint the town, er, go to see mama. That was my codependent job which I did very well, too well. It was her co-job to remember it when we started home. She did halfway home.

It was an upsetting moment and I struggle to talk about all this without a little emotion, embarrassment. Though some of the stuff could be replaced with effort, some couldn't; one CD in particular.

That would be Dean Martin crooning, "Italian Love Songs" which we've had for years. It comes with a lot of romantic sentimentality and an equal amount of air time. Except for the lyrics, "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie" it's all gooey stuff, though you could argue pizza is pretty gooey too. We might have bought the CD in Italy , or maybe it came with a pizza and a picture of Sophia Loren. I don't recall.

Chances are you have something similar -- a Frank Sinatra, Annette Funicello or Fabian tape that is special for reasons which make you blush or smile or both. You keep hanging on and carrying it around hoping for candles, bubbly and roses in your room, something called "For when the time is right" on the night stand, and a miracle.

Halfway home I called the hotel and explained we had left the bag of important stuff in our room. I don't recall exactly what I told the nice lady but I might have mentioned Dean Martin and Italian love songs more than once. A scant twenty-four hours or so later -- the bag showed up on our front steps with a "Smiley" note that said "Enjoy".

I haven't played Dino yet but he appears okay along with the Mills Brothers, Pat Boone, Maguire Sisters and Best of Lawrence Welk. Now you know why we hide this stuff -- you can't buy it just any place.

I'm not sure if this episode calls for a review of our codependency rules or not. She isn't big enough to tote more than one suitcase up and down the steps.

: )

Rx for life: Small dose of exercise, moderate consumption, heavy laughter.

John L. Brazell is a native Texan and resides in the beautiful Hill Country near Austin, Texas. He's a retired corporate executive. John’s love for writing can be traced to high school typing class when he first typed, "Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party." As the only boy in class he took the instruction literally and fell in love with a forty-pound Royal Typewriter and every girl in the class. 

He is a member of several writing groups and has been published in ezines, newsletters/newspapers, community and corporate publications. His unfinished version of the next "Great American Novel" is entitled, The Unfinished Great American Novel.

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Top-level comments on this article: (1 total)
» left by Brianna Popsickle 2 years 343 days ago.
121 fans.
Loved it John! So glad you got your Dino tape back. Every home should have one! :)
» left by John Brazell 2 years 342 days ago.
28 fans.
Brianna,
 
And I love your sense of humor.  So glad you enjoyed the humor -- and by golly, if we can't laugh at ourselves, then what?  Of course, this one had a happy ending. Keep your lovely smile, and keep writing.
 
Best to you,
 
John 
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