S T R A N G E B E D F E L L O W S | C A R V I L L E & M A T A L I N
James Carville and Mary Matalin,
America's oddest couple,
offer their reflections on Valentine's Day.
to be honest with you, Valentine's Day is no big thing in our house. We acknowledge it, but it's just not a flowers and champagne kind of affair. Never has been. James: You know what we'll probably do on Valentine's Day this year? We'll be driving to our farm in Virginia. For dinner, we'll stop somewhere along the way at Checkers, a fast-food joint. Two burgers -- Mary's cooked to a coal, as always -- a couple of small fries, and a Diet Coke to split. Mary: I much prefer spontaneous celebrations of love, not the programmed kind. That's what makes James such a romantic. He has these wonderfully unpredictable love bursts. James: Love bursts, huh? That's a decent way to put it. I just get caught up in feeling lucky, you know what I mean? I look at my wife and I think, damn, I don't deserve this woman. There's hope for all the rest of you bald-headed, squinty-eyed guys out there! Mary: Oh, come off it, James. James: People are still mystified as to how this relationship works. They hear us yelling at each other on TV and they can't figure out how we manage to share a TV studio, much less a home, a family, a life. I don't blame them for being curious. I mean, not every guy has a wife who calls him a serpenthead -- or worse -- in front of a couple of million people. The truth is, I don't know what makes this relationship work. I'd like to have some articulate metaphysical explanation for it, but I don't. All I can say is that it works. It took me 48 years to find the right formula. It was worth the wait. Mary: The problem is, people look at us as if we're opposites. We're not. We're actually very similar people. We're both advocates. We're both passionate. We both like a good, fair fight. My opposite is someone who doesn't have a philosophy of life, someone who doesn't get fired up about anything. James: Sure, we have different ways of looking at politics. No doubt about that. But Jews and Catholics who get married probably have a different way of looking at God. It's just not a deal-breaker. If most everything else is compatible, you've got the makings of a damn good relationship. Mary: I know it's hard to believe, but we just don't talk politics at home. Taxes, welfare, we'll just never agree. All his lunatic screaming and hand-waving isn't going to sway me, and I can't make him budge either. So we've just learned to avoid talking about those things. There are some subjects where we're both kind of conflicted -- drug policies, for one. We can have a civil conversation about those things. James: I've never been one for discussing politics at home. That's all I do all day. I get my fill at work. My office is in the basement of our house, but I like to keep my two worlds as separate as possible. Mary: Even if we avoid most political topics, we still find plenty to argue about. But that's part of it. We're competitive. We challenge each other. My mother always told me I'd end up with someone I wouldn't always beat. She was right. James: I got the same advice from everyone in my family. I needed someone who wouldn't dote on me -- someone who wouldn't take any of my crap. Mary: We went on vacation last week. James was reading this book about the great flood of 1927 and kept wanting to tell me things about it. I told him to let me read it for myself -- I didn't want to be predisposed one way or the other. He turned to me and said, "Mary, you are not a predisposable woman." I guess he's right. I make up my own mind. I do things my own way. James: You got that right. I'll tell you why Mary really loves me. It's because I'm her little Neville Chamberlain. She says she wants Czechoslovakia. I say, Be my guest. Austria? No problem. Mary: Oh, come off it. Am I really that bad? James: Put it this way. My motto in this relationship can be summed up in three words: capitulation, retreat and surrender. When she decided it was time for me to propose, she dictated exactly what I was supposed to say and when. She took my credit card and went out and bought the engagement ring. Mary: Aren't you glad I did? James: I wouldn't have had it any other way. You're one of a kind, honey. Mary: You're not so bad yourself, my little serpenthead. Happy Valentine's Day. Feb. 12, 1997
Could you marry your political opposite? James Carville's Web site |
