It had taken him nearly a decade, but the Ol' Bloviator had finally just about gotten the memory of that molten moment at the 2000 Democratic convention, when Al and Tipper Gore engaged in a protracted lip lock, and (watch out folks with queasy stomachs!) I swear it looked to me like ol'Al even had a little of that tongue thing going on. If such a kiss were occurring today, I suppose Tipper could respond with that great country song, "Get your tongue out of my mouth, I'm kissing you goodbye!" News of the Gores' split has shocked a lot of people, since the two were high school sweethearts who'd been together for forty-plus years and even co-authored Joined at the Heart, a book about the American family.
Although I truly hate it for both of them, I'm not all that shocked. According to experts, the sixty-something demographic is the only one where the divorce rate is rising. Explanations for this are purely conjectural, but all rolled into a little ball, they come down to Boomers don't do boredom well. When you've exhausted most of the "new" options available to you (kids, houses, cars, diets, clubs, coffeemakers, flat panel TV's, etc.), the spousal unit is suddenly in play. For all his good intentions, with the possible exception of Larry King, Al Gore has got to be one of the most boring bastards on the planet that he seems to be so intent on saving, preferably, it seems, all by himself. Friends described the Gores as a "tight family unit." If the titular head of that family unit is any indication, truer words were never spoken. Let's just say if BP could persuade Mr. Environmentalist himself to use his sphincter to pinch their pipe, our oil leak worries would be over. Frankly, although she doesn't exactly come across as good-time Gertie herself, I don't see how ol' Tipper has held on as long as she has. As I once wrote right here on this site, if I were forced to sit by Ozone Al on a transoceanic flight, my mind would quickly be pondering the odds of becoming the first person ever to jump from an airplane at 30,000 feet and survive.
Boredom isn't the only possible cause for later-in-life treks to Splitsville, of course. Analysts say that by age sixty women especially feel as though they have sacrificed or compromised their happiness or fulfillment in order to play the supportive wifey and supermom for forty years or more and it's time, by God, that they had their shot at filling in their own "Bucket Lists" while they're still healthy and fit enough to git'r done. All I can say is that while Ms. OB has every reason in the world to feel this way, I pray to God she'll at least let me hang around while she's scratching every fulfillment itch she's got. This week she and I will be celebrating forty-one years of wedded bliss (OK, maybe there was a minute or two here and there when bliss was not exactly the operative word, but I honestly don't remember very many, and I'm hoping like hell she doesn't either.)
As most of you know, despite his gruff, macho demeanor, the OB is just an ol' softy at heart, and that heart came near to melting when he heard the report that hours before his death on Friday, legendary UCLA basketball coach John Wooden asked that he be shaved because he was about to be reunited with "Nellie" Wooden, the only girl he ever dated, to whom he was married in 1932 and to whom he remained just as married after her death in 1985, reportedly writing her a letter every month for the past twenty-five years.
John Wooden was not just a giant in his profession, but a giant of a human being. I can't prove it, of course, but I'd be willing to bet that he found far more fulfillment in his unfaltering devotion to the departed Nellie than most of today's spouse-dumping Boomers will ever know. As to my own appearance upon departure, when the missus and I meet in the great hereafter, I'm sure she'll be looking for someone unkempt and disheveled. Maybe I should make that if we meet. In fact, given the current Vegas odds on my eternal prospects, regardless of my other attire, I'd be a fool not to hedge my bets with a set of asbestos underdrawers.
