Toward Commitment

by Diane Rehm

  On balance, I believe John and I are in agreement about how to use our money. Of course, our circumstances have changed considerably over these past forty-two years, and we now have much greater financial comfort. However, John remains more conservative than I in his outlook. He's more of a saver than I am, although I've never been a spendthrift. When, after years of living in our home, I wanted to give the insides a complete facelift, he balked. And balked. And balked. I think it took about four or five years of nagging before he finally agreed to move forward with redecorating the entire house, which truly needed it.

  By that time I had begun to earn a small income, so I believed I deserved a say in how our money was spent. That is what the issue finally came down to: Should I, as the minor earner, have as large a say as he, the major earner? Or should that even be a factor? After all, we were partners in marriage, weren't we? Sure, he was the one out there earning the bulk of the money to support us. But I had been taking care of the home and our children. Didn't that merit acknowledgment? Those responsibilities didn't earn me money, but they were what freed John to concentrate on his career. It was a matter of fairness. We should both have an equal say in how the money was spent. But it sure didn't feel that way.

  Dialogue on Money

  JOHN: The topic is money, not in the sense of something to be budgeted but rather in the sense of the emotions we bring to the idea of money. Emotions that we may not be in touch with. In my case, I think I tried to shield from you, in the early years of our marriage, my essential anxiety about money: the feeling that money is always to some extent hazardous, that it may not be there for everything we want—maybe not even for basic necessities. That's certainly a carryover from the fact that I was raised toward the end of the depression, and while I don't recall my parents talking about it much, there's no question but that I picked up my mother's concern about money and its availability.

  DIANE: I certainly have a tendency to be willing to spend money. From the time I was sixteen, as you know, I went to work. I saved up enough money during that time to buy my first bedroom furniture, which was really something for me. I knew I could buy it “on time” and put a certain amount of money down, then pay an amount each month. So I learned, by the time I was seventeen or eighteen, that you could budget for something, and it could be yours. I sensed, whether you told me so or not, that you felt, Oh my gosh, can we afford this?—a certain fear, except when it came to buying a house. You felt we should purchase a home immediately because it would give us an instant foundation.

  JOHN: You're right about that, and looking back, I'm a little surprised that I was prepared to make what was a gamble at the time. From our earliest years together, we agreed to set aside enough money for the kids' college education, about which we felt very strongly. But as we approach a potential purchase, I think you and I differ in a fundamental respect. My inclination is always to put off a purchase, so that the money will be there for some future purpose.

  DIANE and JOHN: [laughter]

  JOHN: Your inclination, within bounds, is, Oh, let's buy it, because we have enough money. I immediately react by asking whether there's really a valid reason for making the purchase and so reducing the amount of money we have.

  DIANE: Which is why I would sooner go shopping without you than with you. I shop with an eye for what I believe we need. Therefore I'll go through the store and see things I hadn't thought of and realize, Oh my gosh, we need that. And I'll get it right then and there, because my point of view has always been, if you need it, buy it when you see it; if you come back later, that perfect thing that you want may be gone. Your attitude is always, Well, now let's think about this and whether we really need it.

  JOHN: That's right, and I have to confess that's still the case. When you go into a store and see something you like in the way of a dress, say, and you buy it, in the back of my mind is the feeling, Well, she wants the dress and she'll justify its need later.

  DIANE: [laughter]

  JOHN: Which is another way of saying the need is not really that conspicuous, but you'll buy the dress anyway, and if I press you, you'll come up with a reason that will justify its need, when in fact it was simply desirable.

  DIANE: Money gets into clothing, gets into purchases for the home, gets into the very elements of our makeup. You spent your high school years, for example, wearing modest clothing, and you had a group of friends who did the same thing. Now what I think that did was to implant within you the idea that all you needed are the most modest kinds of clothing. And then you transferred that attitude to our house itself. Do we really need this new chair? Do we really need this coat of paint? This whole approach to money began to display itself in so many different ways.

  JOHN: Dealing with me is tough because, as I've been thinking about it, this emotional underlay of anxiety is accompanied by a strong antimaterialism. I'm basically not in favor of buying things. Sure, necessities, but beyond that I'd probably stop if I had my way. So that, Diane, you were encountering these two strong strains that were within me. The anxiety on the one hand—better not to spend now, and save for another day—and also this strong antipathy to things and the material articles of life.

  DIANE: Now take the redoing of the house, which was a huge issue for us. You kept saying, “No, it doesn't need redoing, it can wait.” And granted, it required taking out a second mortgage on the house. When it was finished, and when I had come through absolutely on budget for everything involved, you loved it.

  JOHN: Oh, I quite agree. But we're dealing with both the rational and the irrational. Rationally, I did love it, and you did a fine job having the house refurbished. But that didn't eliminate my initial anxiety, and probably an enduring anxiety about paying off the second mortgage.

  DIANE: I'm struck by the fact that Maxine Thornton Denham, one of our therapists, used to say to us that sex and money are two big issues in any marriage. We've talked about sex, making love, and the anxiety there. Do you agree with her that those two issues are big ones that any marriage has to face?

  JOHN: I probably do, and of the two, I would say money is the more difficult. Assuming there is an attraction between two people, as there certainly has been between you and me, at least one element of sex is a genuine, immediate pleasure. Money, as I look at it, draws on some of our deepest feelings, some of the essential aspects of our personalities. I think therefore it remains an issue. What we would hope for is to find ways of managing the issue so it doesn't get out of hand and lead to major confrontations.

  DIANE: I think in this forty-second year of our marriage, we may have reached that point. As an example, I very much want to create an addition to our home. We've talked about this for a number of years, and at first you said to me, flatly, “No, this is silly, this is ridiculous. You and I are in this house alone—we don't need an addition to the house.” Instead of arguing with you constantly about that, what I've done is let some time pass, and let some attitude sink in, some suggestion about what the house would look like. Then you came to me finally and said, “You know, I'm not prepared to do this now, but let's see how the economy goes in the next year or two. Then let's talk about it.” To me, that seemed far more reasonable and rational, and I was willing to accept it.

  JOHN: And I think I was encouraged by your acceptance of it. It suggested that you aren't, as I would put it, irrationally determined to go ahead and put on the addition, come what may, whatever the state of the economy, whatever the state of our retirement fund. So I think one can say there's been some movement on both sides.

  DIANE: I really think there has. I've learned what your sensitivities are. For example, if we go into a store to buy you a specific item—say, a jacket you've expressed the need for—I'm now not foolish enough to try to get into an argument with you about buying a pair of shoes for yourself, in addition to the jacket.

  JOHN: Well, that's right. It really used to irk me a lot, because I'd say I need a shirt, or whatever, and you have a very good eye about these things.
We'd go in to buy a shirt, and before I know it, we're talking about a jacket, a tie, and shoes.

  DIANE: [laughter]

  JOHN: And immediately my anxiety and antimaterialism would raise their ugly heads, and I'd say to myself, Here we go again. This is not rational purchasing. This is spur-of-themoment irrational purchasing. And there we were, at loggerheads.

  DIANE: That's interesting that you call it “spur-of-the-moment irrational purchasing.” I would say, Now that John is here in the department store, I have him to try on such things— which you obviously needed.

  JOHN: But I felt at that point that I was being used, that you had finagled me into the store to buy something that, admittedly, I'd said I needed. And then, suddenly, I'm deluged by all these other items….

  DIANE: But the fact of the matter is—

  JOHN: So you took advantage of me….

  DIANE and JOHN: [laughter]

  JOHN: That's what it comes down to.

  DIANE: And the fact of the matter is, I don't do that anymore.

  JOHN: Much less, but I think it did feed what is probably a prevalent male feeling, which is that when women go into a store, objective need goes out the window and it's all impulse buying.

  DIANE: It's not all impulse buying….

  JOHN: And they do it to relieve their own anxieties of one kind or another. We all know about these great purchasing binges designed to ease some kind of neurotic need.

  DIANE: [laughter] Do you think I go on great big neurotic purchasing binges?

  JOHN: No, but I would say that there are occasions when you've brought home more clothes than you needed to.

  DIANE: Well, those are my passions.

  JOHN: Exactly. And the passion is irrational. That's my thesis. Men and women have to learn that they have very different approaches to the purchase of things.

  DIANE: But don't forget that passion does feed the soul.

  JOHN: Yes, but passion can also destroy the soul.

  DIANE: In my case, passion feeds the soul.

  Profession

  John

  Our culture has demanded that I—like so many others—become an adult by learning multiple roles. Above all others, these include being a spouse, parent, and professional. Getting a grip on any one of these roles is hard enough. My upbringing afforded me little preparation for taking on these daunting responsibilities. Nor did it give me even a hint of the further challenge— that is, not only the mastery but the integration of all three roles.

  As far as being a spouse and parent goes, I gave these two roles little thought before marriage. But three impressions in particular rose in my consciousness. First, my parents were of little help, since they rarely shared with me their thoughts about performing these roles. Second, love was a sufficient foundation for becoming a successful spouse and parent. Third, the process of doing so would take care of itself and not require conscious thought and overt action.

  I could not have been more wrong. For the first several years of our marriage, I focused compulsively upon my professional career and neglected my other roles. Far from achieving any degree of integration, I didn't even achieve minimal success in these two familial roles. It fell to Diane to salvage the little she could, spending most of her time alone with two small children.

  Even today, I'm struck by the fierceness of my dedication to my career as a young lawyer in the government. What caused such fierceness?

  It was certainly not a desire for money, since government salaries were perennially modest. I think it was a combination of ideology and the recognition I received. Over a period of about thirteen years, I worked at an increasingly senior level on the U.S. foreign aid and trade expansion programs, in which I believed wholeheartedly. I felt that I was making a contribution to the cause of economic integration and reduced conflict among the countries of the world.

  Moreover, as a lawyer, I found myself working closely with Foreign Service officers whom I came to admire greatly. They combined intelligence, expertise, and, above all, a deep commitment to their jobs. In turn, they gave me respect, as well as encouragement and even affection. I felt needed and supported by outstanding professionals promoting both our national and international interests. It was all very heady for a lawyer who was not yet thirty.

  For some years, I paid a heavy price as an inadequate spouse and distant father. I knew full well that my wife was not only lonely but angry. I also knew that I was missing significant experiences with my children. Though they were undemanding, I knew that they were saddened by my absences. When I was at home, gone were the recognition and satisfaction I received from the professionals with whom I worked. Gone was the support for my efforts. At home, I was just another human being, struggling against Diane's anger and hostility. During that time, my work was an addiction, and the gratification it gave me largely blinded me to the harm I was inflicting on my family.

  Indeed, a vicious cycle set in. The more time I spent at the office, the more angry and frustrated Diane became, and the sadder my children. In turn, I retreated all the more into my work in a vain effort to minimize the clashes with my family. After all, I could understand and direct my work, whereas I had little comprehension of—much less control over—what was happening at home.

  In fact, I had mixed feelings about Diane's behavior. On the one hand, I felt she was wrong in berating me for working so hard, instead of being supportive and sympathetic like a good wife. On the other hand, I acknowledged to myself—but certainly not to her—that I was allowing my work to dominate our lives to an unhealthy degree. The tension between those two feelings served to exacerbate the problem.

  My behavior as a young man was without doubt reprehensible. But after all these years, I still sympathize with that young man's plight. He was the sole breadwinner, anxious to move ahead for the benefit of his wife and children. At the same time, he was ill equipped to meet the competing demands of career and family. It would be years before he—prodded by Diane and supported by therapy—was able to understand, and, to a degree, integrate all three roles.

  Diane

  Never in the world did I dream of having what is called a “profession.” It was simply not part of my vocabulary, or, strangely, even my dreams. I grew up accepting the idea that my “title,” if you will, would be, first, wife, then mother. To my mind, that vision was totally satisfactory.

  What I had not counted on were the changes going on in and around me: the ferment of the sixties and seventies with regard to women and independence; the explosion of ideas that led to questions about self and marriage; and the freedom to express myself, to react in my own ways to art, to music, to politics and literature. Up until that point, I had unquestioningly and gratefully accepted John's beliefs. But then, as a result of conversations with individuals and groups of female friends, I began to consider my life and its possibilities in a new way.

  Yet even then, venturing out of the house to find a profession seemed far-fetched. Instead, I gave myself over to various volunteer organizations, working with other women in the church, organizing dinners, heading up adult learning programs, serving on the church governing body, and broadening my circle of acquaintances. After taking a course at a local university called “New Horizons for Women,” I happened to speak with a woman who had just begun volunteer work at a radio station here in Washington. That idea held great appeal for me, and I asked whether more volunteer help might be needed. She inquired, and through that chance encounter, my “professional” life began.

  I have now been the host of a nationally and internationally broadcast radio program for the past twenty-two years. It has changed my life, and our lives, profoundly, and given me a sense of accomplishment I wouldn't have imagined for myself. But its impact on our marriage has been both positive and negative.

  In the early stages of my development as a radio broadcaster, John was enormously pleased for me and frequently proclaimed his pride to our children, to his colleagues, and to our friends. He bragged about me a lot
. He talked about the kinds of issues I was dealing with, the people I had on the program, and the number of times he heard the show in taxicabs.

  But slowly, the more well known I became, the greater the unease I sensed in him. I began to feel some resentment, particularly over our attendance at events to which I had been the person invited, rather than he. When we went to such functions, more people knew me and wanted to talk with me than with him. When we walked into a grocery store or stood in line at the movies, strangers would come up to express their appreciation for the program, and I could sense that John was put off. After years of having his professional status be the focus of our relationship, the tide was turning.

  Picture a scale with a single brick on one side, weighing 165 pounds. The scale remains lopsided for at least fifteen years. Then a small stone is added to the other side, at first weighing perhaps as little as twenty pounds. But slowly the weight of the stone increases while the brick remains steady, and finally there is a move toward equilibrium. As those two weights, representing our professional lives, evened out as a result of my totally unexpected move from the background into the foreground, we had to struggle to try to find a new way to be together in our marriage.

  And now, with John's retirement after forty-five years of practicing law, we enter yet another new stage together. He's found numerous activities in which to be involved and from which he takes great pleasure. I maintain my professional career, which continues to interest and even excite me. I'm not ready to let go yet, and it will be interesting to assess the impact on our marriage of our two now different lifestyles.