More than forty years later I finally understand the wisdom of my typing teacher, Karen Simon. Ms. Simon was a hoot. She was a single Jewish woman in her late twenties when I was in high school. Walking up and down the classroom between the rows of typewriters she would shout out letters in a singsong fashion for the twenty or so high school girls trying to learn how to type without looking at the keyboards. Over and over the drill would continue. As I recall it now I can see her so clearly, a petite, short-haired brunette who was simply “adorable.”

She not only taught us how to type but she also waxed poetic on the trials and tribulations of meeting the right man. Ms. Simon entertained us with dating stories, and she wore her heart on her sleeve. She went through a lot of men looking for love. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do. Once, after a couple of days’ absence, she showed up with a new nose. Although still swollen and black and blue, she was mighty proud of it.

I listened to her stories with amusement and wondered to myself why she was trying so hard. One time, however, she created a visual for me that I’ve never forgotten. We were having one of our frequent private conversations after class. Talking about relationships and what she’d learned, she held her hands up and pointed the fingers towards each other. As she moved her hands up and down, she explained that when young, each of us tries to find our way and are basically all over the place with our feelings and behavior. Over time–and her hands slowed down–we settle into who we are; when we do, we frequently find we’re not on the same page with our partner. Her hands had stopped moving and they were no longer on the same level… one was higher than the other. Nobody’s fault, just not compatible. Intuitively that made sense to me although I lacked the life lessons at this point to understand what the differences between partners could be.

After two divorces and several relationships, I can clearly articulate the differences that matter. What was once a general observation became highly personalized. I also found that her illustration held true beyond youth. Finding my way is a daily exercise for me. In any situation, whatever my age, I’m not on the same page when I’m trying to please and make myself fit, where my feelings are stuffed and behavior calculated. I now understand when it’s okay to compromise and where “close enough” isn’t good enough.

Stripping the stories down to bare-bones minimums and eliminating the emotional drama, I found that values weren’t in alignment, and that giving and receiving was out of balance. Visually, I see values as a vertical line, and balance as the horizontal line. The sweet spot is where they meet in the middle. Using Ms. Simon’s example, where both hands arrive at the same level is the sweet spot.

It all seems so simple now but I couldn’t have gotten to this understanding if I didn’t live the experiences and have a willingness to look inward, to know myself more intimately, and to reflect on my partners without the judgment, pain, and guilt that previously distorted my thinking.

Whether Ms. Simon found the love she was looking for I cannot say. What I do know is that her words found fertile ground in my thinking, and with time and experience, landed firmly in my heart.

Marguerite LaDue

12/4/16