Have you seen Blue Bloods? It’s a television crime/drama that is almost as much about a family consisting largely of cops as it is about what those cops do in their day-to-day jobs as police officers in New York City.
The show, starring Tom Selleck and Donnie Wahlberg, was recommended to us by several of our friends, so we decided to give it a try. The relationships of four generations are heartwarming and amusing. They gather together every Sunday night around a large table for dinner and conversation, which includes prayer before the meal and anything-goes topics of discussion.
The commercials during the show do more than advertise products and services. They also give away their target audience. Half of the ads are of the “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” variety. We usually fast forward through them, but we still get the gist of what actors like Betty White are offering.
This has raised concerns and questions between Bob and me. Are we too young to be watching this show? We are the pre-walk-in-bathtub generation. Furthermore, should we admit that this is the kind of show we like? Our pride could take a hit if people only knew what kind of programming is being viewed behind the closed doors of our home.
Our conversation has also been influenced by this show and has given way to new things to argue about. In one episode the great-grandfather has a heart attack and is rushed to the hospital. Tom Selleck (his son) is asked what medications his dad takes. Poor Tom doesn’t know and feels like a lousy son. The pharmacy has to be called and precious moments are wasted in an effort to find out if Great Gramps takes blood thinners. SPOILER ALERT: Gramps pulls through.
We put the show on pause and I say to Bob, “You know, if you were admitted to the hospital I wouldn’t know what medications you take.”
Bob: “I don’t take blood thinners.”
Me: “You take fish oil. Fish oil is a blood thinner.”
Bob: “I don’t think that counts.”
Me: “Oh, it counts, baby.” (I say this with enough confidence to cover up my lack of confidence.)
Then I look at him with nothing but love in my eyes and say, “You need to have a list of all the stuff you take and put it in your wallet – just in case.”
Bob: “I constantly am trying to get stuff out of my wallet. I don’t want to add to it.”
Me: “So you don’t even have room in there for a piece of paper that could save your life?”
Bob doesn’t like to argue. He tries to let that last one go but I’m on it with, “I’m right, you know. Just tell me you know I’m right.”
“You’re right,” he admits. “The list is a good idea.”
“Thank you,” I say.
We start the show back up, and I look at him with respect that he would admit when he was wrong and joy that this conversation could very well save his life someday. Love is welling up in my heart and then a realization sets in, and I say, “You’re not going to make the list, are you?”
He gave a simple answer – no.
That’s when I knew that we had entered the next stage of our marriage – old people arguments. No more arguing about the kids or calendars or jobs or vacations. We’ve moved on to bigger things – what’s in your wallet?