That is not a typo in this article headline. People much smarter than myself have posted memes, quoting famous people who made the claim that “Whatever doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger.”
In fact, if you do an ‘image’ search for that phrase, you can find an awful lot of people who have had that particular phrase tattooed on their bodies, here or there. (Mostly, there.)
But a much smaller number of popular memes make the claim that, “Whatever doesn’t kill only me makes me stranger.” Which appeals to those of us who prefer the letter “a” to the letter “o”.
Not that I’m expecting to be killed. Nor am I terribly eager to become more strange than I already am. But I think a lot of people (myself included) became stranger during the COVID whatever-it-was. Some experts called it a ‘pandemic’, and I have no problem if they want to call it that. But the fact is, it didn’t kill me (as of this morning) and I really think I am considerably more strange than I was two years ago, when President Trump assured me the whole thing was going to blow over in a couple of weeks.
There were other times when I was strange, of course, that had nothing to do with viruses. Unless the urge to get married is caused by a virus, which is something I’m perfectly willing to believe, even if the scientific evidence has not yet surfaced.
Did I think marriage was going to kill me? Not at all. I actually thought it would make me happier, and possibly even more successful.
And the reality is, marriage didn’t kill me. It only made me stranger.
I’ve heard that men often buy a ring and pick an unusual setting for their marriage proposal. Like this one:
Arrange a party with friends and family and start playing trivia questions. You can start by asking questions to friends and family members and when it is the turn of your beloved, you can straight away pop the question.
I kinda like this strange way of proposing, for those who think of marriage as trivial.
It aligns with my own particular attitude around tying the knot. (Or the noose.) Darlene and I were having lunch at McDonalds, and she was seven months pregnant, which meant that she had certain cravings, such as a chocolate milkshake at least once a day.
As I recall, the restaurant was decorated in shades of yellow and red. Psychologists have suggested that the color red is “associated with energy, war, danger, strength, power, determination as well as passion, desire, and love… Enhances human metabolism, increases respiration rate, and raises blood pressure… Attracts attention more than any other color, at times signifying danger.”
The color yellow, I understand, is “associated with joy, happiness, intellect, and energy… Produces a warming effect, arouses cheerfulness, stimulates mental activity, and generates muscle energy… Bright, pure yellow is an attention-getter, which is the reason taxicabs are painted this color… When overused, yellow may have a disturbing effect.”
I am right now thinking about these dangerous and disturbing effects, and how people become strange.
But to get back to the marriage proposal. I asked Darlene if she wanted another packet of ketchup, and she said “No”. (As I remember the events. In Darlene’s version of the story, I never asked if she wanted more ketchup.) Then I said, in my most nonchalant tone, “So, what do you think, we get married? Since you’re seven months pregnant?”
Darlene responded, “Sure. Why not.”
I’m not sure if this conversation would be considered strange. But things proceeded to get stranger and stranger, as marriages often do.
As I noted earlier, however, it didn’t kill me. It didn’t kill Darlene, either.
I wonder, though, how strange can a person become, when they are not killed?
There were other things that also didn’t kill me, of course. I don’t want to give Darlene all the credit. I once got lost (temporarily) when hiking in Death Valley.
Underrated writer Louis Cannon grew up in the vast American West, although his ex-wife, given the slightest opportunity, will deny that he ever grew up at all.