The Amish are not fond of cameras but someone convinced a bunch of farmers that this was ok. The photographer caught fifty or so men working together to build a barn in a day. The teamwork is like music, and from a safe distance of a quarter of a mile there is no evidence of disagreement, competition or conversation. Everyone works hard and in a matter of hours the roof and walls are up. Bring on the cows.
Because men sometimes talk to me about what goes on when the doors are shut, I am privy to situations that sound similar. Feeling berated by their wives, trying to provide yet feeling like it is never sufficient, invisible until something needs fixing are a theme that I find so familiar I can almost finish their sentences. But I don't. I listen carefully. It breaks my heart.
Yet I am
pretty sure it would not work to give these men each other's numbers and suggest they form a support group. Women gravitate toward chatty sessions but men not so much. They would rather sweat in a field lugging lumber.
The book How To Improve Your Marriage Without Talking About It sits on my shelf even now. I read it, and I heard the authors speak about it. Alright I admit it is inconsistent to talk about something that professes to work without words, but as a woman that is my first language. Men are often more at ease with actions.
I started soup this morning. It has three kinds of beans, rice, root and green vegetables, sauteed onions, and artichoke hearts. I don't like artichoke hearts. But John does. It is a way I can express my love without uttering a sound.
