Committing

The guard in the thrift, who is a real cop, as opposed to the rent-a-cops you see most retail stores, is talking to the cashier. He’s telling her that he is making his girlfriend/fiancée wait three years before they get married.

In theory, I don’t have a problem with people waiting for periods of time to get married. But I wonder if this sometimes isn’t due to the fear of men and women who are afraid of changing their comfortable lives for the unknown. Commitment between couples comes in many forms; it doesn’t have to be legal/church marriage or a blood relationship, and there are good reasons for people to stave off marriage for awhile, or never to get married at all. Still, I wonder.

So many used wedding dresses in thrifts. I saw a woman in one the other night . . . it was one of those confections truly scary to behold. Yards of creamy satin and lace and crystals and beads, a long, poufy sleeved number with a scalloped neckline and never-ending petticoats of tulle. The kind you might see in a large Catholic wedding, paraded around like a relic. Now it is truly a relic of some past—and perhaps long ended—commitment, ready to be worn by this very young woman with a child in tow, who is again ready to make a commitment to someone who isn’t here in the store with her.

How long do commitments last? If thrifts have anything to say about this, often not very long. That seems to be the way our culture goes sometimes. Last year’s purchase is this year’s resale. I once found a chemise, which I had recently been eyeing in a new clothing store, in the racks of a thrift. When I went back to the new clothing store, I still found it there, at normal price, of course. Went back to the thrift and bought the like-new red satin piece with black lace inserts and red, crisscrossed satin ties in the back.

What does this say about my own sense of commitment? I’ll try to not let the metaphor drift too far. Only that I find hidden value in the less-than-new but still beautiful. Even items with a few chips or a missing button. Even a missing tooth, like mine—a spot in my mouth where a baby tooth was lost and a permanent tooth never grew in its place.

I am in a committed relationship, too, an engagement, something at one time I didn't think I was capable of doing. But I have found that some of that is a result of a fear of what "commitment" means or looks like. I believe that each of us, for what it is worth, can create commitments that are meaningful and longlasting without being the stereotypical "ball and chain." We can even find real, long-term happiness in those relationships.

And I believe that even if something, or someone, has been around the block a few times, as I have, there is still a place for he/she/it, a usefulness and purpose. At least, I hope this to be the case.