A Goose, a Gander, and Some Real Fine Meandering

If you are a regular fan of my blog, you know that I recently spent a night out with some friends. We visited 18 Irish pubs and called it a early evening.

We gathered round my kitchen table with plates of potatoes, cabbage and lamb. ( OK, that sounded very Irish-y, but none of us would eat a lamb, so in truth we had the usual snack assortment). We cracked a few more bottles of Ale (finally! The designated driver gets another Guinness!) and I began dive into the deep philosophical psyche of my pseudo-Irish, under-the-influence friends.

At first it’s just a rambling, meandering, fast paced reel of things like- remember those fruit loops and sugar smacks in the little boxes you could cut open and pour the milk in, and don’t keep me outta the loop, I wanna know the poop, and why do they call it bat guano?

The conversation slows a bit as another round is opened and a jig replaces the reel, still on a jaunty note and meandering from this to that- I wanted a horse just like Mr. Ed and an uncle like My Favorite Martian, my yoga teacher beat the heck out of us this morning- wanna see the new move I learned? ( ankle behind neck, arms reaching for the ceiling), what the heck was my cat thinking when he sat in my windowsill pots of kitchen herbs, and have you been in that new gift shop up the street?

Then it turns into a slow Aire, full of emotion and expression of courageous deeds and times long past - remember the time we skipped high school to see the Grateful Dead? The school called our moms and although we arrived home at exactly the time we would have if we had taken the late bus and walked from up the block, they knew . What about that night we drove home in a blizzard, went off the road and didn’t freeze to death because, thank the lord, your mom left the porch light on and we were able to find the house once we got close.

Over time the conversation slows and burrows deeper. We are meandering into the realm of the very origin of Irish music, the single vocalist signing A Capella- a song from the roots of their being. One of my friends finds a lull in the conversation and announces-

“I’ve been thinking about this whole goose and gander thing”.
“What goose and gander thing?” I ask. (did I mention my friends tend to meander?)
“You know, the goose and gander thing. Did you know the female of the species is the goose?”

Now, I figure I can handle this, seeing how my friend has had 20 pints of Guinness and I’ve had but 2, and, as I really am of Irish descent, genetically I’m able to process Guinness faster than the average human and it doesn’t cause my mental capacity to be diminished by one iota.

“OK- yes, that’s interesting isn’t it?”
“The male of the species”, she continues,” is called the gander”.
“Hum, yes I think I have heard that", I say as I cautiously inch away taking my pint with me.
“So that old saying”, she proceeds between sips “what’s good for the goose is good for the gander?”

With a shrug and a roll of the eyes at my other friends, I tip toe onward, “Yes, that’s the saying as I remember it as well.”

“Some people”, she said, taking another sip, “some people, well they might think it means if the goose gets a pair of Manolo Blahnik or some Jimmy Choos, then the gander should have new shoes as well".

I’m trying to picture a big goose running around the yard in some Manolos. I may need another Guinness.

“And some might”, she continued “wonder why for so long, women resigned themselves to the idea that what was good for the gander, was good enough for the goose”.

Now I’m picturing a goose burning her bra. Definitely need another Guinness.

“I’ve been thinking about this and I believe I have found the true meaning to that old statement”, my friend says with a flourish as she waves her hand high.

Now she has everyone’s rapt attention. We all set our pints down and listen intently.

“It must mean that what ever the woman, judging with her heart, decides would make her happy, if the guy would just help her achieve it, well, her happiness would be so infectious that he would be happy as well.”

There is a long moment of silence, just as called for after a meandering A Capella performance. Everyone seems to be thinking deeply as the last note fades.

Hum, I never really thought about it before. “Yes, I believe you may be right with that fresh insight to an age old question!”, I proclaim as I lift my glass for a toast and we all clink, clink, and clink. There is laughter and applause and a whistle or two.

Then I realize I’ve found just the person to fill in for me when I’m on vacation and would like someone to meander on in my place.
“Talk about meandering!” I exclaim, “That was as classic a meander as I’ve ever heard! Can you be my blog ghost writer when I’m on vacation?”
“Ok” my friend replies” but first, mind if a take a little snooze on your couch?”
“Be my guest” I say as she settles onto the couch and falls asleep.