Little Problems of Married Life: XXI, Holding Monotony at Bay

Little Problems of Married Life BY WILLIAM GEORGE JORDAN XXI — Holding Monotony at Bay Monotony is the malaria of matrimony. It poisons the home atmosphere, gradually exhausts the life-giving oxygen of love and comradeship and leaves one stifling in an air of discontent, protest, and rebellion. It means dull, deadly depression of spirits, a general tired feeling regarding life, weakening hope and will, loss of appetite for the trifles of every-day living, a listless, languid indifference, a nervous irritability difficult to control. It takes all the brightness and vividness from the color scheme of life and thought and leaves them a cold, dismal gray. This monotony saps the vitality of mental, moral and physical resistance to trivial cares and worries that assume portentious proportions like figures blurred into bigness by a fog. It needs the fresh tonic ozone of change, the vitalizing sunlight of a new interest, the windows of life opened wide for freer air and a broader outlook. Monotony in married life is an insidious evil. It is hard to cure but easy to prevent. Husband and wife should realize that it rests solely with them ; the conditions are absolutely within their control when acting in unity and harmony ; either can do much, neither can do all. They can create an atmosphere of comradeship, cheerfulness, and courage that defies monotony. It takes so little to hold it at bay, in the beginning ; it takes so much to kill it, in the end. It is easier to dodge a few snowflakes than the wild fury of the storm at its worst. The secret of monotony is over-absorption of the head or the hands where the heart is not in it. It is the overfeeding of one side of life at the expense of the other ; it is the prostrating effect of unbroken sameness in an environment. When the daily drudgery is unillumined by the conscious joy of consecration, when through brooding and self-sympathy we translate it into a treadmill of routine, then monotony holds us captive. It is what we put into life that makes it great ; it is what it takes out of us that makes it mean, miserable, and monotonous. The wife, in her devotion to her home, may place a false estimate on trifles. She may become house-bound ; never crossing the threshold except when absolutely necessary ; she may un- *Copyright, 1910, by Fleming H. Revell Company.

LITTLE PROBLEMS OF MARRIED LIFE 803 consciously convert her home into a prison and submerge the wife in the housekeeper. The unending repetition of the same duties, this continuous performance without change or intermission, begins to chafe and fret and weary her; it seems like the regular tramp of a vast army on the march, continually passing but never passed. The deadly routine begins to wear on her nerves, like the irritating, insistent tick of a clock in a sick-room. The narrow horizon of her living depresses her spirits ; she grows fault-finding, dissatisfied, helpless and hopeless. The salt of life has lost its savor. She must lessen. the tension some way, drop the whole outfit occasionally, forget she is a machine and remember she is a human being, and get out for a change of thought and experience. Let her turn her steps to the green pastures of rest and restoration, take a walk or a drive, hear a little music or see a play, make a visit or entertain a caller, go shopping, that does not require money, for it is only buying that costs, read some book even though it is only "one of the best sellers" — anything that will freshen the mind, quicken the blood, gladden the heart, or put a new edge on life. Some people do take duty a bit too seriously. It is delightful occasionally to turn your back deliberately and impolitely on a duty for a while, to give saintship a little vacation, for the duty does welcome you so when you return, and it does not seem half so hard. Much of our loyalty to duty is simply disloyalty to higher duties, and when we are dulled by monotony, we do not differentiate clearly between them. There are honest, earnest, good women who, like Martha of old, are "cumbered with much serving." They let the house eclipse the home, creature comfort overshadow heart comfort; they make themselves unfit companions for themselves, much less, for their husbands. They should cultivate the courage to let go; they should realize that monotony is never a bargain, never worth what they pay for it. There are other wives who have no cares nor responsibility, no tax on time or energy, no money worries ; burdens of housekeeping are reduced to a minimum by the help of efficient servants ; the children are away at school. These wives, too, often face monotony. It is not the monotony of work, but of leisure. It means time that must be lived through, somehow, hours of idleness, loneliness, moodiness, with no deep compelling interest to consecrate them to highest usefulness. Sometimes social duties may prove as exacting as real labor, and in the monotony of parties, receptions, balls, calls, driving, musicales and dinners, husband and wife may really enjoy a quiet evening at home where thev mav become acquainted again. In the absorption of making money for the support of home and family a husband may lose" the true perspective of life. He

804 ' IMPROVEMENT ERA may become unduly anxious for more money; he may key his desires too high ; he may be sacrificing too much of his real self in acquiring wealth. In over-absorption in providing all that money can buy he may forget the greater things that mere money cannot buy, forget that mere material things do not bring real happiness. If he goes home tired, physically, mentally and morally, and is pre-occupied and silent or irritable and fault-finding, he is drifting towards the rocks of matrimonial monotony. He is sinking the husband in the treasurer, the lover and companion in the business man. He should lighten the pressure if it be possible ; if not he must make a mighty effort to neutralize its effects rather than intensify them, to disinfect his mood with cheerfulness. The failure of many marriages is not any great positive wrong or even a series of lesser wrongs, but just lapsing into the omission of words and acts of love, comradeship, thoughtfulness, confidence and interest that mean the joy of life; it is surrender to monotony that may at last bring revolt and a break for freedom. And two who have loved may just grow tired of each other, hardly knowing why or when or how — and both may be to blame. Monotony means surrender to an environment, not conquest cf it. Man is the only animal that can consciously change from within, change manners, thoughts, impulses, desires, dreams, ideals. Man is the only animal that can consciously modify his environment, by deliberate choice move to an entirelv different one, transform an old or create a new environment. All the other animals are derelicts carried along by currents of instinct, habits, hungers and environment ; man can head his craft towards any harbor despite the currents. If husband and wife determine to keep the ship of matrimony out in the free open sea far from the shoals of monotony and hidden reefs of discord, it depends solely on their navigation, not on winds, tides or outside forces. The blight of monotony is not solely one of wealth or of poverty. The less the income and the more restricted the life the less is required to do something that will break the spell of monotony, that will bring a change, a new impulse, a new impetus, a new inspiration. A dinner away from home, an evening at the theatre, a long ride or a sail, a day at the beach, a walk in the country, a visit or a guest, some new books, mav be the trifle that mav break the deadlv dullness of uniformity. The two must realize that the monotonv is in them rather than in conditions, but changing: the con.ditJrns or the thought of changing them often has a tonic reaction. Tt is at least — a start. It is the conscious conquest of environment. Business men realize the effect of cleanliness, comfort, convenience and change in making a store more attractive to cus-

LITTLE PROBLEMS OF MARRIED LIFE 805 tomers. They vary the display in the shop-windows, they decorate in harmony with the seasons, they rearrange departments, they continuously seek to banish monotony. This philosophy of change might well be introduced in many homes where the same articles of furniture stand in the same places for years as if they were built into the walls. Rearranging the furnishings, changing the position of the pictures, packing out of sight the surplus of ornaments and bric-a-brac that make rooms look like museums, and bringing them out later and retiring the old ones, may freshen and brighten a home and give a new life and inspiration. Flowers in a room, a window-box of green growing things or a touch of color somewhere work wonders in a simple way. There is a tendency on the part of many married people to surrender to their moods, not to bother about making themselves agreeable to each other. There are times when a guest comes to the home and the husband may be surprised to see how entertaining his wife can be ; he hears her tell stories and incidents that are new to him, that amuse and brighten the atmosphere. He may narrate entertaining episodes of his business life, talk interestingly of new inventions, new discoveries, city improvements, national men and measures, facts and fancies from his reading, observation and experience, and she may look across the table in a pleased wonder and try to keep back the expression of her rebellious protest that with her alone he usually surpasses the oyster in silence, except on the old subjects now talked to tatters. Monotony comes from many causes ; it can be held at bay in many ways. The courtship method helps by keeping the two from settling down into a matter-of-fact, hum-drum existence, by hallowing trifles, by banishing a sense of duty and putting the spontaneity of love in its stead. Comradeship helps, too ; it puts both on a basis of consecrated friendship, willing to take uncomplainingly together the rough or the smooth, the lights or the shadows, the deeps or the shallows of living, just as equals, with no awe, no oppressive dignity, no fear, but with freedom, frankness, full respect and confidence that smiles away sorrow and suspicion. Humor helps ; it livens trifles, takes the sting out of little troubles and miseries. When the servant leaves at four minutes' notice, there need not be grumbling, and protest, and fretting. What if the meals are not up to par or the house not manicured and given a heavy polish, for a day or two? There is no need for worry, the world is not yet come to an end. If taken in the right spirit it may be a picnic time for both. Children have the advantage of us older folks; they know how to pretend and to play things are different from what they are. A little of this spirit, sometimes, keeps us young; it brings imao-ination to the rescue ; it crowds out the oppressiveness of the serious side of things when tears may be just trembling near the

806 IMPROVEMENT ERA edge of the eyelids, like actors in the wings waiting their cue. An honest laugh is worth a hundred sighs in any market. It does not really make much difference if the humor seem a bit home-made and show signs of wear, if it please the two, who enjoy without criticizing, and carry a bubbling laugh from their lips to their living. Reading aloud, music in the home, the romping play of the children, the welcome guest — all help to keep monotony at bay. Looking out for the joy-notes in the commonplaces, finding happiness like a four-leaf clover because we know just where to look for it, seeing reason for thankfulness in what we have rather than regret in what we have not, singing and smiling at one's work, make monotony fade away like mist before the sun of the morning. Really loving one's home is the best way to make it worth loving ; having a pride in it will make it proud of us. Doing more for each other intensifies love, for we love most those for whom we do most. Love grows and gains by giving. Let us hold monotony at bay by utilizing to the full our trifles of possibility. If we cannot go to Europe or even take a trip to the mountains or the sea, let us take a trolley ride or a walk; if we cannot do even these let us look out of the window and smile — do anything that breaks our over-absorption. If two kill monotony in their hearts, they will kill it in their lives and they will be just glad and happy that they have — each other. ("The Tyranny of too Tight a Rein" will be the subject of the next article in this series.) A correspondent sends to a Paris contemporary an amusing contest of wit which he recently heard in a railway carriage on a journey between Compiegne and Rove. There were several passengers. One believed himself to possess a fund of humor which he intended to expend on a priest who got in at one of the intermediate stations. Bestowing a patronizing look on the clergyman, he said: "Have you heard the news, Monsieur le cure?" "No, my friend, I have not," was the reply; "I have been out all day, and have not had time to glance at the papers." Then said the traveler: "It is something dreadful; the devil is dead." "Indeed," replied the ecclesiastic, without the smallest surprise or displeasure. Then, seeming deeply touched, he added: "Monsieur, I have always taken the greatest interest in orphans. Will you accept these two sous?" The wit, we are told, retired as gracefully and as quickly as he was able. — London Globe.