Lifelong pair-bonding is uncommon among non-human animals, but it does occur. It is practiced by many kinds of creatures, from seahorses and spiny mice to wolves and whistling ducks. Monogamy evolved as a reproductive strategy because it helps to ensure the survival of babies to adulthood; the female can care for her young more effectively if she has the male’s assistance, ensuring the continuation of both parents’ genes. However, the restriction to a single mate prevents promiscuity (which has its own reproductive advantages) and, in humans at least, obligatory monogamy can lead to boredom and bitterness.

We would like to imagine that our complex culture makes us immune to the dictates of biology, but we are not as civilized as all that. Nearly all of us will marry at some point, even those who do not plan to have children (like myself) and those who are past the age of reproductive possibility (like my mother). For many years, homosexuals have been fighting for the right to marry as well; while some of these people plan to adopt children, most simply want their bond to be recognized. But, if marriage is not related to reproduction, it leaves one to wonder why it still exists at all.

The man I love is tall, lean, and always occupied. Even sitting still, he works ceaselessly on projects in his mind. I have the same busy brain; this connects us. We understand each other’s inability to be idle, and it is a relief not to have to explain it. There is more: he makes me laugh, and he is kind. The rest is inexplicable and nebulous: it is merely that I love him. We share a house and a dog, and there is a quiet and constant happiness to our days. It is an informal arrangement, but I can no longer imagine an end to our union. Still, I wish to declare it permanent somehow. I cannot explain why. He wishes to avoid any such confinement, and so we are stuck.

In the absence of any reproductive motive, why marry at all? Why voluntarily restrict future options? It seems to make more sense to stay with each person as long as you are happy there, and then to effortlessly move on when things get dull or unpleasant.

Still, some inexplicable instinct ensures that the desire to marry endures, although many of the marriages themselves may not.

In November 1998, researchers at Cornell University reported that humans are biologically programmed to stay in love (that is, to produce the heady infatuation chemicals dopamine, oxytocin and phenylethylamine) for a period of only 18 to 30 months at the beginning of a new relationship: just long enough for the conception and birth of children. After that, apparently only genuine affection, inertia, good sex or social conventions will keep a couple together, because the chemical effects of the hormones will wear off. Only a new mate can inspire those feelings again. Why, then, do we continue to marry, to appoint ourselves to a task that is so difficult? Which is stronger, the instinct to form a lifetime pair-bond, or the instinct for promiscuity?

Just a century ago the social taboo against divorce was strong enough to keep families together, but in recent generations hedonism has become the rule: if you aren’t happy, your friends will recommend that you simply walk away. It is called “?liberation’, but to me it looks like slavery to the biochemistry of those love hormones. It seems like doom: if you leave when there is a hiccup, when the bliss disappears for a time, you will be forever leaving.

The Cornell report tells of Emperor penguins, who generally mate for life; the pairs live separately but get together for two months each year to breed and incubate their eggs. The female has only so much patience, however, and woe betide the male that tests her limits. After their ten-month separation, the female arrives at a prearranged meeting place and waits for the male to show up. If he isn’t there within twenty-four hours, she moves on and finds a new mate. That seems an inexplicably harsh expectation for a creature with no access to a calendar, but she is strict about violations. Her commitment to this male may be strong, but it has clearly-defined limits.

I, unmarried still at almost-thirty, have begun to experience the pull towards marriage and am stunned by its power. I know now what brings my mother back, over and over, to an arrangement that always leaves her wretched. Explaining the appeal of pledging one’s eternal troth is impossible; the desire to do so is as primal as anything I have felt.

A man in Egypt claims that he has been married to a total of 203 women in his life (so far). Seventy-eight-year-old Mustafa Semeda says that he has fathered only three children as a result of these unions, and that in the wake of his most recent divorce, he is once again “?looking for love’.

REFERENCES

Cornell University, (July 30, 1999). A Tough Year For Monogamy. Environmental News Network. Website:
http://www.enn.com/enn-features-archive/1999/07/073099/hiker730_4690.asp

Heather Wrigley recently abandoned a safe, but dull, Human Resources career to finish her Athabasca University B.Sc. in Human Science. When she’s not studying, she volunteers at the local Children’s Hospital and at the Women’s Health Centre. She also loves to garden, bike, drum, fish, read, and take long walks with her Border Terrier. She lives in Calgary.

My friend Patrick is not a child: he is thirty-four years old. He has a small but spotless apartment, a Siamese cat, and a job that he loves. He pays taxes, volunteers at the Humane Society, and wouldn’t think of littering. His friends are diverse and fascinating, and he has plans with them nearly every night.

Most of the time, Patrick is a genuinely happy man. He has one source of frustration in his life, however: he wishes that more people would see him as an adult. He knows that he has limitations, just like anyone else with Down syndrome. But he is a grown man, with many adult responsibilities, and even those who know him well sometimes seem to forget that.

Patrick’s sense of humour is a little unsophisticated. Like most kids, he laughs a great deal and can find pleasure in common things. His intelligence may be below the average, but he has found that strong and persistent happiness that many people spend their lives seeking. Patrick’s sunny demeanour makes him a joy to know: his frequent laugh may have the deep baritone timbre of a man’s, but it is as infectious as that of a baby.

Patrick is considered to be quite “?high-functioning’, but in many ways he does remind me of a child. He is slow to learn new concepts, and he lacks the insight that most adults have. When he is learning something new, it is important that the person teaching him explains the concept thoroughly. The ramifications of a procedural change at work, for example, must be explained in careful detail, because Patrick will not realize them intuitively. Once a change is explained, he needs practice to master it. He may lapse into doing things the old way out of habit, but only for a day or two. Like a toddler whose routine has been upset, Patrick requires a little time to adjust. Once he understands the new way, however, he will adhere to it consistently. Few of his “?normal’ co-workers can be counted upon to be so reliable.

Patrick has been living by himself for eight years. His lifestyle is completely sane, but a little unconventional; he often reminds me of a boy whose parents have left him alone for the first time. He jumps on the couch with joy when his favourite hockey team wins, he collects banana stickers (which are plastered all over his refrigerator and kitchen cabinets), and he frequently takes his cat for walks on a leash. He doesn’t like to cook or wash dishes, so he lives on cold foods of the sort most people reserve for snacks: fruit, cereal, chocolate milk, and peanut-butter sandwiches are his favourites. It may seem childish to some, but in fact Patrick’s diet is healthier than that of most men his age.

It’s true that Patrick is childlike in some ways, but all of them seem superficial to me. In reality, He is very much an adult, and is more responsible than many “?normal’ adults his age. He is often frustrated (and I am appalled) by the fact that he is denied the respect and basic rights that most adults enjoy. There are few formal limitations placed upon developmentally disabled adults in Canada, but Patrick experiences informal restrictions every day. When he goes for a drink with his co-workers on payday, it’s not unusual for a well-meaning bartender to hesitate, or even refuse, to serve him alcohol- just as they would if he was underage. There’s always a look of uncertainty on the face of the ticket clerk when Patrick buys a ticket for an R-rated movie. He once giggled and blushed as he confessed to me that he had been on a date the night before (with a lovely woman his own age, who also has Down syndrome). While I was delighted for him, most of the others who knew about this were aghast. Despite the fact that Patrick is a grown man with the same natural desire for romantic companionship as any other man his age, it is expected that due to his intellectual limitations, he should forgo that part of his life. Patrick’s accomplishments are forgotten in these situations; he is seen simply as a child in a grown man’s body. But despite the minor similarities, he is not a child, and there is no reason that he should be treated as one.

Patrick will never write a book or get a university degree. He’ll probably never even get his driver’s licence. But there are many things of which he has proven himself capable, and he is in every way a contributing member of society. In recent decades, Canadians have made great strides toward the acceptance of developmentally delayed people in our society. The final step we must take is perhaps the hardest one of all: the recognition that Patrick, and others like him, are not children at all.

Heather Wrigley recently abandoned a safe, but dull, Human Resources career to finish her Athabasca University B.Sc. in Human Science. When she’s not studying, she volunteers at the local Children’s Hospital and at the Women’s Health Centre. She also loves to garden, bike, drum, fish, read, and take long walks with her Border Terrier. She lives in Calgary.

Still, most book-lovers do not take a negative view of technology. In fact, there is one special group of readers who are using the Internet to turn their love of books into an exciting adventure in sharing and serendipity. The website http://www.bookcrossing.com has made it possible to keep track of books you’ve given away, so that you can find out where they go and what other readers think of them. It’s called “?read and release’, and it’s an intriguing way to spread joy and books throughout the world.

Registering on, and using, the website is easy and doesn’t cost anything. Once you’ve signed up and have printed a set of BookCrossing labels from the site, the fun begins. First, choose a book that you have finished reading and want to give away. From the BookCrossing website, click on “?register book’. Enter information about the book in the fields provided: its title, author, genre, and what you thought of it. (If you ever wanted to be a book critic, this is your chance!) When you’ve finished registering the book, the website will give you a BCID: a BookCrossing Identification Number. Stick a label inside the cover of book, write the BCID on it, and you’re done.

So, you now have a book that’s registered on the site and tagged with its own unique BCID. What’s next? Why, you release the book, of course. Set it free! Give it to a friend, leave it behind on a park bench, or hand it to a stranger on the bus. Any way you can, get that book out into the world. This may be the most fun part of BookCrossing: deciding where to leave the book, and then quickly sneaking away before you’re seen, like some kind of cloak-and-dagger philanthropist.

If you’re lucky, the next person who receives the book will see the label and visit the website. There, they can enter the BCID and make a “?journal entry’ about the book, explaining how it came into their hands and what they thought of it. When they’re finished with the book, they can pass it on to someone else. The result is that as the book travels (sometimes literally around the world), an online log of its journey is created. Whenever someone new makes a journal entry for the book, each of its previous readers gets an e-mail notice from the site. Releasing a book is like sending a message to sea in a bottle: it is now at the mercy of currents and tides; all the releaser can do is trust that Fate will carry it where it needs to go.

It’s exhilarating when a book gets journalled, and many of them do. I’ve released books around Calgary that have journeyed as far as Singapore, England, and Tokyo. A good example is a book called “?Words I Wish I Wrote”, by Robert Fulghum. I bought and read this book years ago. It languished on my bookshelf until I decided to release it last summer. I dropped it off on top of a bank machine on the University of Calgary campus, and crossed my fingers. Later that same day, I got an e-mail saying the book had been picked up and journalled by a student at the U of C. The journaller later passed the book on to someone in his carpool. She read it on her trip to London, where she gave it to someone else. That fellow took it with him on his vacation. He reported that the book accompanied him for several weeks, while he visited such places as Poland and Ukraine. He finally released it at Heathrow Airport on his way home. Everyone who was a part of this chain is now eagerly waiting to see where it travels next- and although I’ve never met any of these people, I somehow feel connected to them through the adventures of the book we share.

It’s wonderful to get a message saying someone has stumbled upon your book and was delighted to receive this unexpected gift. Often, the books seem to “?find’ specific people for a reason: sometimes the person has been wanting to try this author, or an inspirational book has reached them during a dark period of their life, or a travel guide to Belize turned up just when they were trying to decide on a vacation spot. Sometimes a bookcrosser will release a book they hated, and it will fall into the hands of someone who loves it.

Nearly all books seem to be found, in the sense that they disappear from their original location within an hour or two. The majority of finders never make a journal entry, but most bookcrossers agree that the act of giving is more important than whether they ever receive word of the book’s whereabouts. There’s just something magical about giving a gift to a random stranger, especially when that gift is something as precious as a book. Like sending a grown child off to see the world, once the book is out of your hands, all you can do is wish it well and hope that once in awhile, it will write home.