Jersey Boy

My friend Liza recently posted about the show Jersey Boys, which got me thinking about my own born’n’bred in New Jersey husband.

The first thing you should know is that Craig, somewhat akin to Clark Kent, is one of the most mild-mannered guys I’ve ever known. This turns out to be a huge point in my favor, since Craig is very good at tempering my own rather foul temper and also putting up with my idiosyncrasies. (I was actually once told that I was incredibly high maintenance, but Craig has assured me that that was a lie and that I am very easy to keep happy.) I sort of have a hard time believing that anyone could be as nice as Craig is, and I think some tiny part of my subconscious is constantly on the lookout for the day when Craig will finally explode from annoyance with me. But nothing to even suggest such pent-up rage has happened yet, so after three-and-a-half years of marriage I’m beginning to think that Craig really is just that nice. Did I luck out or what?

When I first learned that Craig was from New Jersey, I informed him that that was too bad because he couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to grow up in the woods like I had. No amount of arguing from Craig could change my mind on this matter, until I finally went to his house and saw for myself that he, indeed, had grown up in the woods, too! I guess not all of New Jersey is covered with landfills! Who knew? (I do have to point out that while there may be just as many trees in Craig’s backyard as there are in mine, I still win because our trees are bigger and green all year round. So there.)

Other than the fact that Craig can say “water” with a perfect New Jersey accent (but only when you ask him to—- he figured out how to talk like the rest of us when he was in the MTC), you wouldn’t ever guess at his roots. I can really only recall one time when Craig and I were dating that I could actually see some of the New Jersey-ness in him. That was the time when we were trying to get out of the parking lot at the Blockbuster video store somewhere off of 5th East and 6th North or something in Provo. Those of you who have been there will recall that that particular parking lot is absolutely ridiculous—- it’s like a triangle or something, so none of the spaces quite fit and there’s no room to back up or maneuver at all. So as Craig is trying to back up his Oldsmobile without hitting anyone, some truck suddenly goes zooming around us and out into the street without even stopping or checking for traffic as if he just can’t possibly wait for any of the cars that are already on the move and have the right of way. Much to my surprise, Craig yelled, “If I were in New Jersey, my window would be down and my finger out the window so fast he’d never believe it!!! These people in Provo are so stupid!” I’ve never laughed so hard. I was thrilled to see that Craig’s patience could be tried after all! He was as human as I was!