. . . But in Real Life

     My husband and I recently went to the new Tarzan movie even though I had warned him it was a chick flick. My sister told me that for most of the movie, the star is not wearing a shirt. Apparently Reed did not find that too much of a deterrent and I certainly didn't. In one particularly dramatic scene, the ripped, shirtless hero hears captured Jane calling for help and throws himself blindly off a cliff to rescue her. Tarzan, knowing the jungle and its endless supply of vines to swing on, considers it a mere shortcut. In real life, of course, that would be suicidally stupid. Also in real life, most people seldom need to be rescued--
     Except for the Sunday I handed out invitations to our neighborhood ice cream social. I hand deliver the invitations so I can meet new neighbors and visit with old ones. Besides, that  personal touch makes people more likely to come. I asked Reed to go with me to deliver one at an old farm house down the street because it sets farther off the road and I no longer knew who lived there. The last occupant I knew of was a man I called "Slow Bob", referring to his driving speed, not his intellect. When he drove, he tried to make up in slow what he lacked in sobriety. This year a woman with two quarreling dogs answered the door. The barking slipper dog was annoying, but the Lab cross was somewhat aggressive and definitely disobedient. I handed the woman an invitation while trying to subtly back away from the Lab, but I couldn't back far because my husband was blocking the doorway. He was afraid the stranger's obnoxious little dog would get out. Even though the Lab had been tormenting its tiny playmate when we arrived, I got the feeling he didn't like anyone else doing that and the mini-mongrel at Reed's feet was squealing like a stuck pig. He managed to hand the dog back to its owner without getting bit, but not for lack of effort on the dog's part.

Tarzan: In a flashback to their first meeting, the hero throws himself between Jane and a rampaging gorilla.
In Real life:  My husband, who has known me a long time, traps me between an angry dog and the door.

     Now that the little dog was not in danger (of getting out), Reed moved out of the doorway, but the Lab was following us and barking loud enough to drown out his owner's commands to come. At that point my heroic hubby turned around and walked back to the car. I did not. I have made it a practice not to turn my back on an aggressive dog. I've found dogs that are aggressive to your face are even bolder when your back is turned. But then my husband didn't need to worry about that because, once again, I was between him and the angry dog.

Tarzan:  Husband of 8 years risks death a dozen times in desperate attempts to rescue Jane,
In Real Life:  Husband of 39 years whisks back to the car while I attempt to escape unaided and unbitten.

     I slowly made my way to the safety of the car, very unhappy with the pooch and not too thrilled with my protector.

Tarzan:  In the final scene, John looks at Jane as if he desires every inch of her skin, every stand of her hair
In Real life:  I am thankful Reed doesn't notice how many more inches of skin there are to desire or the gray root at end of those strands of hair.

     That is the problem with real life--no scripts, no choreography, no retakes. Here are some real life examples from people I know.

In Real life:  Wife is inside thoughtfully making coffee for her husband, blissfully unaware that he had fallen off  the roof and broken his hip. After she finally noticed why the dog was barking and called 911, faithful Rusty did his best to protect his master from the emergency responders who came to help. Another woman, whose husband is an emergency responder, yelled for help for 20 minutes before her spouse noticed his wife was taking a long time to get her coat. That was because she fallen five feet onto the cement floor of their crawl space.
     Yes I would like my husband to notice when I need help, but the rest of the time I don't want him looking that closely. If he did, he might notice that his favorite femme fatale is just another flabby female. In real life we don't have soft lighting and makeup artists. No vines to grab when you are falling. Six packs are in the refrigerator, not on your abs. But in real life, I know my husband loves me and I am sure he would take a bullet for me. . . unless he was looking at his phone. . .or didn't notice. . .or the shooter had a dog.