On this 40th anniversary of the Rubik’s Cube …

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Google declared that today is the 40th anniversary of the Rubik’s Cube.

I’m 38 and I thought I was a kid when the Rubik’s cube came out. But maybe the invention wasn’t concurrent with the fame.

I was never able to solve a Rubik’s Cube. Ever. I could do a side and a half … at most. Then came the acts of desperate-ness when you removed like-colored stickers and won the easy way.

But if you’re like me, you’ve known people who can do it. And they can do it in split seconds.

I owned a Rubik’s Cube. And it bored me.

But it’s amazing how a little game could stir such a noticeable revolution of time wasting. Or mind building. Or whatever games like this would do.

It reminds me that I was never able to visualize those 3D images that you had to cross your eyes a little to see. You remember those things? They were all the rage. They were patterns of colors that if you stared at them in just the right way, a 3D visual image would emerge and blow your socks off.

I remember the first one I saw. A family friend gave us a black and white copy of it that he carried in his briefcase.

No matter how hard I tried, nothing.

But others, yeah! They’d eureka and squeal with pleasure.

I knew from an early age of my inferiority to the rest of the human race.

There are things that remind me of my balancing superiority, though, too. Like this weekend, Tina and I went to our second gay wedding.

The venue was the Modern Wing of the Art Institute.

When you live in support of something so bold as the concept of two men or two women exchanging vows and dedicating their lives together, you know you’re a part of something special. It’s honest. It’s right. And it’s going to be mainstay.

In a short generation, it will be accepted almost completely. There will be the peripheral screamers who will always hold up a dusty, leather bound book and bullhorn their opposition.

But it’ll be noise. Background noise.

And as we say around our kitchen at le Café Witteveen, fuck that noise.

The wedding was amazing. One of the best events I’ve ever been to. We celebrated the grooms. We listened to their vows, promises and love. We heard readings and speeches.

We ate.

We drank.

We danced.

It was a celebration of love.

Not that I Corinthians 13 kind of cliché love. This ceremony reflected realistic views of love. Because everyone knows that in love, there’s not always kindness. There’s not always patience. It’s not unselfish.

There’s some anger, jealousy, records of wrongs.

I Corinthians 13 is what’s wrong with love. Couples read that at their ceremonies and are constantly reminded that the words they love so much are failures of a utopian world of horse shit.

But a marriage relationship is the best kind of relationship for so many people. It’s the best way to live, grow, experience life. For some, it’s the best way to raise a family. For others, it’s the best way to raise a couple domestic animals.

And when approached with the reality that love is real. That love is good and bad, and everything in between … with the person you find the best person to share all times, all emotions, all the grace and mercy and conditions of love with …

… that’s love. 

Thank goodness.

I may not ever be able to solve a Rubik’s Cube. But solving some of the mysteries of love is more important.

You can’t remove the stickers to win at love.

You can’t cheat it.

There are ramifications and limitations to it.

I’m not always successful. And you may not be either.

And that’s okay. It’s actually better than living in a dreamworld.

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