My mother was a reserved and gentle person who I suspect was a little disconcerted by my fractious character. Perhaps that’s why most of her advice revolved around who I would marry and under what circumstances. (She also talked a fair amount about personal grooming, but I’m pretty sure that, at this point, everyone already knows you should moisturize constantly.) And so:
“Don’t marry a man named George.”
No idea why, but I didn’t.
“Don’t have a flower girl at your wedding; they distract from the bride.”
“Find a man who can dance and makes you laugh.”
I did, Mom, and we’ve been married for 34 years. I wish you were still alive so I could tell you so.
Anna Quindlen’s new book, Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake, is out this month.