Brown Shoes, Again

It’s occurred to me that Ben is becoming more comfortable in his role as mayor. In one of my earliest posts I remarked that Ben had the habit of wearing brown shoes with grey and blue suits – a major sartorial misstep. The day after that post the brown shoes disappeared and he stopped by my desk to demonstratively point to his nicely shined black shoes.

I smiled, taking satisfaction in the reform that I had inspired.

Now, however, the campaign is over and he’s safely in possession of the mayor’s office for at least the next four years. Because of that transition our address may have changed, but still I’m parked ten feet from his office door.  Ben walks by my desk with approximately the same frequency and I’m able to report that his brown shoes have reappeared.

Ben reminds me of the eager suitor who, through long and patient effort, managed to get his beloved to say yes, she would be his bride. On the way to that sweet moment of assent he conformed himself in a thousand ways, both large and small, to be that version of a man he believed could win her approval.

Then, after the marriage, there was a “norming” process. Gradually some small but treasured idiosyncrasies re-emerged. She found out the old red shirt, with its unattractive western detailing, wasn’t thrown away after all. His need to drive the car reasserted itself. His disapproval of broccoli regained its past emphasis.

Oddly, in a good marriage, with every jettisoning of the reserve disguising those details, there comes a greater commitment to the essential truths at the foundation of that marriage. He gradually learns new reasons to love and honor his wife; reasons that don’t include red shirts, driving habits or broccoli.

So when I see Ben’s brown shoes walk past my desk I manage to say nothing. I know they’re a sign Ben is comfortable in his relationship with our county, and with each passing day he’s finding new reasons to appreciate and value the fact that he is mayor.