My daughter, Chelsey, will soon be coming home from Ball State . . . for good. Or at least until her wedding day (June 16). And as father of the bride, I've been trying to steer her toward my voluminous output of marriage material in the form of books, CDs, and articles. I've got plenty to chew on.
Before You Say "I Do" was the first book I had published (way back in 1998) and Your Beautiful Wedding on Any Budget is one of those titles any father would love for his daughter to read. I've also written a brief Kindle "pocket" guide for brides that I hope would be helpful in creating a debt-free wedding. (And there are brides who are actually buying it!)
Still, I'm fortunate that my daughter has good taste and good sense. Simplicity and natural beauty are two features my girl has always treasured, and she's creating a very affordable, and incredibly simple and beautiful, wedding.
She's also had the good sense not to listen to my advice on marriage. After all, she's seen me in action and knows that Becky is in charge. My role in the situation is to remain boring, say "Yes, honey!", and fix the toilets. My cooking and cleaning skills are a bonus. But as for advice on relationships, well . . . .
Actually, when it comes to marriage, I don't have a problem quoting from Hogan's Heroes: "I know nothing!" My writings on marriage (now hundreds of thousands of words) is simply an exploration of all the things I would like to know, but am afraid to ask. And, of course, I'm writing from a male perspective . . . which means I am in the dark when it comes to figuring out what a woman is thinking or wanting. I've learned it's better to offer an array of choices in any situation. My role in the mess is to rotate the tires, change the oil, and wax romantic every now and again. I write love poetry so my wife will know I'm no sap and can at least pretend that I've got the ability to express what she wants to hear. Some of these poems actually make sense. To me.
As the wedding day approaches I'll keep offering my advice, of course. A dad has to pretend to know something. Otherwise, he's just a body who mows the grass and cracks walnuts in season.
And he occasionally weeps at weddings. (Just don't ask him why.)
Before You Say "I Do" was the first book I had published (way back in 1998) and Your Beautiful Wedding on Any Budget is one of those titles any father would love for his daughter to read. I've also written a brief Kindle "pocket" guide for brides that I hope would be helpful in creating a debt-free wedding. (And there are brides who are actually buying it!)
Still, I'm fortunate that my daughter has good taste and good sense. Simplicity and natural beauty are two features my girl has always treasured, and she's creating a very affordable, and incredibly simple and beautiful, wedding.
She's also had the good sense not to listen to my advice on marriage. After all, she's seen me in action and knows that Becky is in charge. My role in the situation is to remain boring, say "Yes, honey!", and fix the toilets. My cooking and cleaning skills are a bonus. But as for advice on relationships, well . . . .
Actually, when it comes to marriage, I don't have a problem quoting from Hogan's Heroes: "I know nothing!" My writings on marriage (now hundreds of thousands of words) is simply an exploration of all the things I would like to know, but am afraid to ask. And, of course, I'm writing from a male perspective . . . which means I am in the dark when it comes to figuring out what a woman is thinking or wanting. I've learned it's better to offer an array of choices in any situation. My role in the mess is to rotate the tires, change the oil, and wax romantic every now and again. I write love poetry so my wife will know I'm no sap and can at least pretend that I've got the ability to express what she wants to hear. Some of these poems actually make sense. To me.
As the wedding day approaches I'll keep offering my advice, of course. A dad has to pretend to know something. Otherwise, he's just a body who mows the grass and cracks walnuts in season.
And he occasionally weeps at weddings. (Just don't ask him why.)
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