Was hardly two weeks ago, when I’d flown down for the memorial service of a dear friend, that as I drove past an old theatre with a smile playing on my face, a friend sitting in the same car asked me, “Remembering someone you took to the movies Bob? Some college flame?”
“No,” I said, “I was remembering my dad, “I was his salesman for his interior designing company, just a teenager, and I had tried to book the order to do this theater’s interior work!”
My friend smiled, and nodded for me to continue. “I brought my dad here, and found that the marble work in the foyer of the theatre was already complete, till my dad told me, ‘That’s not marble Bob!’”
“Of course, it is!” I’d said, “Look how perfect and beautiful it is!”
“And what did your dad say?” asked the friend in my car.
“He said, ‘Marble is recognized by the fault lines that run across it’s surface! This, what you see here, is imitation marble cleverly made from Plaster of Paris. There are no fault lines running across at all!”
We passed the theatre, now looking quite old, but I have never forgotten my dad’s words, and now know the best marble, from the best sites in the world, all have lines, known as fault lines which run across it.
But the imitation in the theatre didn’t have any.
In its perfection it was pure-fiction!
I wondered how many of us look for perfection in each other, not realizing that it’s the faults that make us more endearing and human.
It’s that little look of uncertainty before we enter a room of strangers, our vulnerability, which reveals the perfect vulnerable marble in us.
That spilling of coffee when we pour some into a someone’s cup, that shows we are weak in our marble short comings.
Only machines and robots are perfect, and how boring and predictable they are.
So, you, who are looking for the perfect husband, or perfect wife, you will find soon enough that it is just an imitation whose surface will soon reveal pure fiction.
Let’s enjoy each other’s imperfections. Because that fault line in another, is where we can fit our strengths in. It’s through those so-called faults, that two people become a perfect unit. Her weakness, is where his strength is, and so vice versa.
I look back at the old theatre and is it it’s old brick and mortar voice I hear saying, “Bob, that imitation marble you saw, never lasted! The Plaster of Paris surface crumbled in a few years!”
In my mind’s eye I look at all the ‘perfect’ women that men want, and the ‘perfect’ husbands women look for, and point them to the old theatre, “Perfection is Pure-Fiction, faults are what make marble men and marble women..!

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