The Fat Man recently went on a business trip to a small town about a hundred miles from where I live. Future Son Fat Man had the day off and agreed to tag along for the trip. We talked about a lot of things, and I appreciated the opportunity to get to know him better. We got on the subject of kindness in marriage. He told me that he is not really one to get very angry about stuff. He gave me an example that had happened a few weeks before. Middle Daughter Fat Man to whom he is betrothed had gone to work out on the treadmill at the gym. While she was jogging and swinging her arms, her hand hit the side handle on the machine, which caused her engagement ring to bend out of shape. She was of coarse pretty upset about it, and when she told him, he did not get mad, he just said “Let’s get the ring fixed”. He said to me, “A lot of guys would have gotten really angry over that, but I just don’t”. I was very glad to hear him say that. She is a fine gentle and sweet young woman, and she deserves all the kindness that this life can muster. I would not take to kindly to some bonehead being uncharitable to her. Now fast forward two weeks. Mrs. Fat Man and I are at a shopping center. Mrs. Fat Man needed to put some of her purchases into my pickup so we could go into a store. So I gave her my keys, she loaded her stuff and we went inside. When we came outside, I asked her for my keys……….and there they were, sitting so nicely on the seat of my pickup, which she had securely locked up for me when she finished loading her stuff 20 minutes before. I had a fit! I started using some of the language that I had picked up from my days as a sailer on the high seas of northern Wyoming………..ok, I was never a sailer, I just have a filthy mouth. Anyway, mid rant I had a flash back to two weeks before, and my conversation with future Son Fat Man. And I was struck by the realization that I was an uncharitable bone head. That’s a nice way of stating the proper anatomical term for those of my ilk, which is that I was being a “rectal orifice” to my sweet little wife. I feel encouraged that I was able to get control before I had been too unkind, but was also disgusted that I am almost 50 years old and don’t have it together enough to just solve a problem instead of adding to it. So, I look at future Son Fat Man, and I cannot help but be pleased, and somewhat ashamed that unbeknownst to him, he helped me to become a little bit better of a man on that hundred mile drive. And to Middle Daughter Fat Man I say, “Good choice Sweetie”!