One for You, More for Me

By Jerry Mack Grubbs

With Mitt Romney, a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, seeking the Republican nomination for president of the United States, there has been much talk in the news about Mormons and their beliefs. One of those beliefs and early practices targeted by the media is the subject of polygamy. Although polygamy was routinely practiced in the mid 1800’s and only a small minority of members of the church practiced polygamy, the subject continues to be a topic of discussion when the word Mormon is mentioned.

In a recent discussion a good friend asked my opinion about Mitt Romney and my attitude about polygamy. When I responded that I wasn’t a good candidate to answer such a question, it pricked her curiosity. “Why not?” she asked. “Let’s get something to eat and I’ll explain it to you over lunch,” I said. We drove to the sandwich shop in virtual silence. I’m sure she was wondering what my response would be and I was contemplating how I would explain myself in such a way that she would understand not only my words but my heart. It was just past one o’clock so the crowd had dissipated at Crown Burger. I ordered a bacon cheese burger and onion rings. Don’t tell my wife, she already thinks I have a death wish. With my friend munching her health conscious salad I began my story.

When I was twelve years old I had a dream in which a girl came to visit me in my tree house. Over the years this same girl regularly appeared in my dreams and I became convinced that one day I would find her and we would get married. Somehow I thought that I would just see her and recognize her for who she was. And oh by the way, I naturally assumed that she would have a similar experience and recognize me also. At age twenty-two I decided that I must be mistaken and stopped searching for the girl in my dreams. I went to work to find a “wise choice” to be my companion and mother of our children.

When I found her I didn’t think it would be too difficult to convince her to marry me. She couldn’t be too picky. She was dating an old geezer in graduate school. He knew exactly what he wanted to be when he grew up and his name was Frankenberger. With a name like that it would be a piece of cake to convince her to switch to Grubbs. I told her on our first date that I was going to marry her. A note of clarification . . . I didn’t ask her to marry me on our first date; I just told her that I was going to marry her. I wasn’t in love with her yet, I barely knew her. I had only been in love three times if I didn’t count my fourth grade school teacher. But something inside of me said that this girl would be a “wise choice”. She didn’t buy into that “wise choice” business too easily. Getting her in that wedding dress was like rowing my boat out on the lake and trying to convince a fish to jump into my net.

I finally learned a few words in “the fish language” and we were married on September 5th, 1969. After a brief honeymoon on the north rim of the Grand Canyon we returned to our schooling. I don’t know why it was such a surprise to me but I discovered I had married a studyholic. It shouldn’t have been a surprise because every time I tried to get a date with her we ended up in the campus library until it closed. In case you are wondering what a studyholic is . . . convince an alcoholic that there are answers to his problems in books instead of booze and he’ll consume the library. Because the race was over and the trophy was sharing my living space, I stopped going to the library with her. Not spending my evenings at the library coupled with the fact that I had a cake of a job working for the university, I had more free time on my hands. With all this free time between work and class, my eyes began to wander. What would you expect when you have a wife who is too busy studying to watch a movie or even go for a drive?

Pretty soon I was noticing what lived next door. I didn’t see her much because she stayed inside most of the time but when she came out she could sure turn a head. She was usually dressed to be noticed if you know what I mean. It didn’t matter what she wore because by now I was hooked. I thought about her all the time. I fantasized about her. I know that I should have felt guilty about what was going on inside my head but I justified my behavior. Hadn’t other men learned how to have multiple loves? What about the guy who left his adoring family back east to earn his fortune trapping furs in the northwest territory of the 1800’s? I don’t think he was writing home and telling his wife about the Indian squaw snuggled up next to him at night to help drive out the cold wind sneaking through the cracks of his log cabin. Or what about the early pioneer who helped bury a fallen friend then married the widow in a wagon train ceremony taking in her and her children along with his own? Was she loved less because she wasn’t the first? Was the first loved less because part of his heart was burning from a different flame? Yes, I know these are weak arguments hurtled against a stone wall of tradition. But remember, I said that the one next door only turned my head. I was watching her from the window, not chasing after her or even trying to make conversation.

I know what you are thinking; the old Bible verse . . . “as a man thinketh, so is he.” Well I have some news for you. I never saw a man slapped for what he was thinking. I never saw a man in trouble for what he was dreaming, unless he was naive enough to share his dreams. I think that verse of scripture is telling us that if you think it long and hard enough, you will eventually figure out a way to get it or become it. Well, that’s what happened to me. Eventually just watching her from the safety of my living room window wasn’t enough. My fanaticizes grew to the point I thought I had to have her. As her door opened one day and she was maneuvering through the opening, and I think you can imagine what I mean when I say maneuvering, I raced over and met her just as she reached the curb of her drive. I didn’t know the guy who was with her but I blurted out, “Where can I find her twin sister?” “At the Kawasaki Dealership on Main Street,” he said. “There are two more just like her on the showroom floor.”

After a fitful two days, my wife finally consented to let me take out a student loan in her name and use the money to bring home my other love. And what a love affair it was. I would race home from school or work and head up into the mountains above our apartment and spend a glorious couple of hours revving her engine and shifting her gears until it was almost too dark to see the trail. My wife didn’t say too much at first. She was concerned about the amount of time I was spending away from home and not studying. She became more alarmed when I wanted to bring my other love into the living room at night because I didn’t want her left out in the cold.

Well, like I said in the beginning, I’m not the right man to ask about polygamy. I have been living polygamy most my life. When you allow a significant part of your heart, interest and desire to be focused on something or someone other than your spouse, isn’t that a mild form of Polygamy? I had a girl who came to me in my dreams before I met my wife. She still occupies a portion of my heart along with motorcycles, airplanes, boats and my latest love, writing. It drives my wife crazy thinking of all the things that I could be accomplishing around the house if I didn’t spend so much time pounding away at the keys of my computer or scribbling in one of my notebooks. It amazes me how, after thirty-eight years of being together, she thinks that if I put away all these other loves, I will magically become interested in whittling down that long list of honey-dos under the magnet on the fridge. Just thinking about that list causes my eye to start wandering once more but not in search of another wife. Two wives would mean two fridges. Two fridges would mean two separate honey-do lists reminding me of all the things I should be doing instead of what I am doing; pounding away on my laptop thinking of a clever way to say something that has already been said many times before. But at least I haven’t been completely deceitful; I wear two rings on my left hand; one for her and one for the other love(s) of my life.

Polygamy, the practice of having more than one wife was banned by the U.S. Supreme Court in 1879. A few daring, yet foolish men, have defied the laws set forth by this great country and have married more than one woman. As their deeds are discovered they are brought to justice. What about all the rest of us who aren’t breaking the law of the land but often do immeasurable damage by spending excessive time and energy where no growth occurs in ourselves or the ones around us. On a recent work project with my son-in-law, he stated that he didn’t have time for many of the things that interest the other men in his neighborhood. “I have three little boys who need a dad to wrestle with them and chase them around the yard,” he said. There is nothing wrong with a hobby or a special interest so long as it doesn’t compete with what is truly important. But in truth, how many of you women out there have been living my definition of polygamy for most of your married life? Have your children grown up being told to be quiet or stay in the other room so your husband won’t miss that critical play as his favorite team scores another basket or touchdown? Or when he slips out the door early Saturday morning with his golf clubs or fishing pole and says he’ll be back in a couple of hours knowing all along that you won’t see him until dark? Is it only when he wants to buy a king-sized bed so there will be ample room for three does the hair stand up on your neck and you shout, “That’s polygamy!”

I once had a dream that I was in bed snuggled down between two women (names not important to the story). They talked for what seemed like hours. As I laid there in the dark I realized they were talking about me as though I wasn’t even there. They discussed my shortcomings and all the changes they thought I should make. Note . . . I didn’t disagree with the shortcomings; I just didn’t enjoy hearing about them. One wife gave the other counsel about how she should handle me. I tried to get to sleep but it was no use. In my dream I concluded that any man who thought polygamy would be a pleasant feast of milk and honey should be required to spend a night in my dream (and these two women “liked” each other). When I wrote about my dream I titled it “Polygamy, Fact or Fantasy.” Now I ask the question, “Where is your heart, where is your interest, where do you focus your time, and where does your spouse fit into that picture?” Has your wife deceived herself by saying, “You know boys, their oversize toys come first.” That all seems to be okay in our society until that toy isn’t a motorcycle, isn’t an airplane, isn’t a favorite ball team, but another wife: then and only then is he breaking the law.

Well, enough said about polygamy. Now back to my opinion of Mitt Romney who, by the way, had a great grandfather who was a polygamist. That is why the news agencies have made such an issued of this subject. I don’t know if Mitt Romney or any other candidate currently running for that high office is the best qualified to lead this nation. I just finished reading books on the life of Abraham Lincoln and George Washington. These men weren’t perfect but their values were clear. They didn’t engage in doubletalk. I’m not convinced that we have a Lincoln or Washington running on either party’s ticket. I don’t think that someone should vote for a candidate just because he is a member of their church. But on the other hand, a candidate shouldn’t be ruled out as a viable choice on the basis that he belongs to an organization that once condoned the practice of polygamy prior to it being banned by the Supreme Court. If you go back far enough in your ancestry most will encounter polygamy or some other “now illegal” practice unless you are descended directly from the Pope (no pun on the Catholic Church intended). In the Bible, the Savior stated to the men about to stone the woman caught in adultery . . . “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”

The puppeteers of the media determine what we as mainstream Americans see in the form of news. If they can get our attention away from the real issues and swallow us up in rhetoric of the past, they have accomplished their purpose of bringing negative publicity to any candidate who is not of their choice. I believe that we should vote our conscience after an examination of the values each candidate professes if those values are substantiated by his or her past behavior. If a presidential candidate’s words and actions do not mirror one another, believe their actions. If you trust their actions you will rarely be mistaken about who the person truly is. And you won’t have to try to determine what the definition of “is” is (if you catch my pun).