Another item was "held someone while they had a flashback." Hmmm...were they a war veteran, or an LSD veteran? I mean, what? Can I count squeezing my own head when the walls started to breathe courtesy of an unfortunate incident when I was 16? No? Well, then, nope, can't say I have.
Anyway, I went through the list and dutifully boldfaced all the things I'd done, and then I polled Sgt. Pepper to see what he had and hadn't done. The results got me reminiscing, and also considering how different we are in some fundamental ways. Also, it reminded me how cool my husband is. Here are the highlights:
Sgt. Pepper and I visited Paris together (hardly the first time for him), and because he is fluent in French, I was squired around in style. Very romantic, a happy memory. We have both hugged a tree, seen the Northern Lights (together from our dock in the Adirondacks, lighting up the enormous bowl of the sky on a chilly late-summer night), grown and eaten our own vegetables, watched a meteor shower. We have both milked a cow, and Sarge has held a lamb, although he has also killed and prepared an animal for eating, an activity to which I myself cannot lay claim. Unless you count squashing a bug, rolling it around, and popping it into my mouth, which I'm sure I did at least once as a toddler.
We have both kissed on a first date, although funnily enough not on our own first date with each other. For that one, we drove around late into the night listening to cassettes, smoking, and bitching about our exes. Also sneaking side-long glances at each other, which of course led to the second-"date" smooch.
We have both read the Iliad, although only I in its original Greek. Funnily, Sarge is the only one of the two of us who can keep the characters straight. I always tell him that I was too busy worrying about Homeric Greek grammar to pay attention to plot...yeah, yeah, says he.
We've both been a DJ. We each of us had a show on our college radio station, before we knew each other. Mine was classical music. It was on at 6 am in the morning, and my Greek professor was the only one who listened to it.
Sarge has been in a combat zone. I haven't, unless you count Brooklyn Cosco on a Sunday morning, badum bum. OY, what a crappy joke.
We've both buried a parent, and I've put someone I loved in hospice care.
I've caused a car accident, dyed my hair (most memorably, Ziggy Stardust orange in tenth grade), and broken a bone.
Sarge, that lovely man, has seen a lightning storm at sea and saved someone's life.