We were doing really well. We had set up an IKEA shelving unit that had
been in my old bedroom and put it in the living room. It became a
pretty awesome way for each of us to display our tchotchkes, nick nacks
and crappity crap. This is, in fact a really great way to begin merging
your styles when you are moving in together. Aaron and I have
remarkably different tastes. But somehow this shelf displays it all
together in such a way that one might ALMOST think they were meant to
live together. There are Aaron’s glass buoys and bobbers, my books
(color coordinated), some flowers I dried and a bunch of Aaron’s toys
and, um “collectibles.” I even put all of our collected seashells in a
glass vase and stuck Aaron’s sailboat on top. We have also been able to
add a few things we found or bought together. I was so into perfecting
this shelf that I didn’t notice the pounding coming from the bedroom.
Later that day, when I walked in I saw that my hilarious boyfriend
(totally not being funny) had hung a picture of JFK with a crucifix
wedged into the frame and beneath it, a plate bearing the likeness of John Paul II.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I think Kennedy is swell. I think JPII was
seriously like the best Pope ever. And nothing wrong with Jesus hanging
on the cross. However hanging on my bedroom wall? What was next? A sex
fantasy with me in a habit? Now the thing is—and let me begin by saying
there are many more things wrong here than one—but one main thing is that I
was raised in a Jewish household, and somehow, a picture of the pope on
my wall just felt really, well, wrong. (I have to say though that if I
was not Jewish, I think this would still freak me out.)
Aaron, having once been an alter boy (although I can’t picture it)
defended the pictures. He even went so far as to call me anti-American.
When that didn’t work he launched into the artistry of the display and
then quickly moved into the nostalgia factor and how these two pieces
had always hung on his walls. As he was reminding me that it was my
idea that we move in together, I finally put my foot down, and by put
my foot down I mean, found a compromise. 1. Kennedy could stay. No one
calls me Anti-American without fully succeeding in their manipulation.
And 2. The Pope and the dying Jesus could not. Aaron’s reply: Kennedy
and the crucifix will not be parted!
Now this is where the genius of our shelving unit came into play. Aaron
decided he could make a home for his Pope plate and his Kennedy with
Crucifix somewhere in our display, and I could filler up until it would
take some heavy looking to find them. So, somewhere between my mother’s
high school picture and her grandmother’s Hanukah Menorah, Jesus, the
Pope and JFK are smiling.
