How Do You Know?

A collaboration between Lewis McLain & AI
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A dialogue between a granddaughter and her grandmother



Scene:
The kitchen is quiet now, the light outside turning golden. The teapot is empty, but the warmth between them lingers. The grandmother leans back, smiling softly at her granddaughter — the kind of smile that carries both memory and hope.


Granddaughter:
Grandma, you’ve told me what love feels like when it’s real. But how do you really know if it’s right before you say “I do”?

Grandmother:
That’s a wise question, sweetheart — wiser than most your age ask. Knowing isn’t about a single moment. It’s about the patterns you see when the emotions calm down.

Granddaughter:
What kind of patterns?

Grandmother (counting gently on her fingers):
Start with faith. If your heart is anchored in God, make sure his is, too. You can’t walk together if one’s following the light and the other’s still chasing shadows. Shared faith doesn’t guarantee an easy life, but it gives you the same foundation when the storms come.

Granddaughter:
So religion really does matter?

Grandmother:
It matters more than you think. It shapes how you forgive, how you raise children, how you see the world. Without that common ground, even small differences start to feel like miles.

Granddaughter:
Okay… what else?

Grandmother:
Money. Not how much he earns, but how he treats it. Does he plan, save, and give? Or does he spend like there’s no tomorrow? Marriage magnifies everything — especially money habits. You want to face life as partners, not as each other’s accountant.

Granddaughter:
That’s practical, Grandma.

Grandmother (grinning):
So is love, darling. It’s not all candlelight and violins. It’s budgets, calendars, and choosing to be kind when you’re both tired.

Granddaughter:
And I guess it matters how you treat each other in public too?

Grandmother:
Oh yes — never, never speak badly about each other to anyone. The minute you let criticism slip into someone else’s ears, you give them power over your marriage. Protect one another’s reputation like it’s your own.

Granddaughter:
What about family?

Grandmother:
You marry more than the person — you marry their whole world. Watch how he treats his parents and siblings, and how they treat him. Family is the soil that shaped him. And when you bring him home, see how he fits among your people. If there’s no respect both ways, there’ll be cracks later.

Granddaughter:
That’s a lot to think about.

Grandmother:
It should be. Also, watch how he treats strangers — the waitress, the cashier, the stray dog. The smallest gestures reveal the biggest truths.

Granddaughter:
What about when life gets stressful?

Grandmother:
That’s when the real person comes out. See how he reacts under pressure — with patience or temper, faith or fear. The right one won’t crumble at every hardship. He’ll steady you when you start to shake.

Granddaughter:
And kids?

Grandmother:
Talk about it early. Whether he wants them, how he imagines raising them, what he values in a home. You can’t build together if you’re dreaming in opposite directions. You will be married singles.

Granddaughter:
You always say habits tell the truth.

Grandmother:
They do. Look for balance. Someone who knows moderation — with food, drink, work, and even opinions. Extremes wear people out. Balance keeps peace alive.

Granddaughter:
What about his purpose — like, his job or calling?

Grandmother:
A man who feels called to something greater than himself carries a steadier joy. It doesn’t have to be glamorous. But it has to mean something. When life gets heavy, purpose keeps him from drifting. How does he handle disillusionment? It WILL come.

Granddaughter:
Can he talk about emotions? Like fear, grief, or joy?

Grandmother:
He needs to. If he can’t name what he feels, he’ll turn silence into walls. Find someone who can talk through pain, who can admit fear, who can celebrate joy without shame. That’s emotional honesty — and that’s love’s backbone.

Granddaughter:
What about his heroes?

Grandmother:
Ask who he admires. A man’s role models are the map to his values. If he looks up to people of integrity — who serve others quietly — that’s a good sign.

Granddaughter:
And self-awareness?

Grandmother:
Oh, that’s gold. Can he say, “I was wrong”? Can he admit when he’s hurt someone and try to make it right? Pride destroys more love stories than infidelity ever could.

Granddaughter (pausing):
Grandma, this is a lot to remember.

Grandmother (smiling warmly):
It is — because marriage isn’t luck. It’s wisdom, patience, and prayer. But I’ll tell you one last thing — maybe the most important of all.

Granddaughter:
What’s that?

Grandmother (leaning close):
If the boy — or the man — isn’t just as curious about you… your faith, your family, your hopes, your habits, your fears, your calling — if he doesn’t want to know your story and your soul — then make sure he knows without any doubt: you are not someone to be half-known. You are someone to be understood, cherished, and respected in full — or not at all.

Oh, one more thing: No regrets. Strive to make wise choices. The best thing you want to be able to say when you get to be my age is “No regrets!”


(The granddaughter nods slowly. The kettle whistles again, and her grandmother rises to refill it — calm, steady, radiant with the kind of wisdom only a lifetime of love can teach.)

The Porch Conversation

Scene: Two old friends, Harold and Frank, sit on a creaky porch, rocking chairs in rhythm. The cicadas are buzzing. Both are hard of hearing, but neither will admit it.



Harold: (leaning in) Frank, you remember the summer of ’62 when we went fishing down at Lake Benton?

Frank: (cupping his ear) What’s that? Went wishing for a baked ham?

Harold: (rolling his eyes) No, fishing at Lake Benton. We caught that big catfish.

Frank: (snapping his fingers) Ah, right! The cat. Scratched your leg something awful.

Harold: (sputtering) Not a cat! A catfish! In the lake!

Frank: (nodding, satisfied) Sure, sure. Mean old tabby. Always hung around the bakery.


Harold: (sighing) Anyway, that was the day you fell out of the boat.

Frank: (outraged) What? I never fell out of a coat! Fit me just fine!

Harold: The boat, Frank. You tipped the boat over!

Frank: (grinning proudly) Oh, yes, yes. That wool coat tipped me right over. Heavy as an ox in July.

Harold: (muttering) If you say so.


Frank: You still got those suspenders from that trip?

Harold: (perks up) Defenders? Oh, sure, I still believe in strong defense.

Frank: (shakes his head) Not defenders—suspenders! You hauled me out by ‘em. Nearly stretched to Kansas.

Harold: (snorts) And nearly pulled my back out too. You were kicking like a mule.

Frank: (offended) Mule? I never kissed a mule in my life!

Harold: (chuckling) Not kissing, kicking! You looked like you were swimming for the Olympics.

Frank: (relieved) Ah. Well. Good. Rumors get around in a small town.


Harold: Speaking of the town, you remember the county fair that year?

Frank: (nodding) Oh, yes, the one where you lost your hair.

Harold: (touching his bald head) My hair? I lost my hare—the rabbit race. Mine ran the wrong way.

Frank: (squints) Thought it looked fast. Shame it was made of fur.

Harold: (snorts) That’s not how races work, Frank.


Frank: What about the dance afterward? You asked Millie Thompson to waltz.

Harold: (confused) Waltz? I asked her to wash! Why would she wash me?

Frank: (grinning) She turned you down flat. Said you had two left feet.

Harold: No, no. She said I had two left boots! Mismatched shoes. Brand new, both for the left foot. Couldn’t hardly walk straight.

Frank: (laughing so hard he wheezes) And you tried to dance in ‘em! Looked like a turkey on stilts.


Harold: At least I tried. You were too scared to ask anyone.

Frank: (puffs his chest) Nonsense! I danced with Betty Lou.

Harold: (snorts) You danced with a barbecue?

Frank: Betty Lou, Harold! The preacher’s niece.

Harold: Ohhh. I thought you said brisket. Would’ve made more sense.


Frank: You remember our army days?

Harold: (smiling) Sure do. You were in the kitchen, peeling potatoes.

Frank: (confused) I was in the mission, stealing tomatoes?

Harold: (laughing) Well, that too probably.

Frank: (indignant) Hey now, I only borrowed them. They put ‘em back in the stew later.

Harold: (grinning) Yeah, after you ate half of ‘em raw.


Frank: You still go to church every Sunday?

Harold: (earnest) Oh yes, never missed a sermon. Pastor’s words keep me steady.

Frank: (nods) Same here. Those donuts in the foyer keep me ready.

Harold: (squints) Donuts? I said sermons!

Frank: (shrugs) Six of one, half dozen of the other.


Harold: You know, Frank, we remember things awfully different.

Frank: (smiling) Yep. That’s what keeps it interesting.

Harold: You ever wonder which of us has the story right?

Frank: (chuckles) Nope. I just assume it was better my way.

Harold: (laughing) Figures.

Frank: (leans back, sipping coffee) Harold, you and I may not hear so well anymore, but we still talk better than most folks do these days.

Harold: (nodding slowly) That’s the truth. Even if half of it’s wrong.



Epilogue: The Wives

(Inside the house, two women sit at the kitchen table drinking iced tea. They are listening to Harold and Frank through the open window as the old men keep rocking and swapping their muddled memories.)

Martha (Harold’s wife): (shaking her head) You hear those two out there? Harold’s got Frank falling out of boats again.

Evelyn (Frank’s wife): (rolling her eyes) Oh, I heard. If you ask Frank, he never even owned a boat. Said it was a heavy wool coat!

Martha: And the fair! Harold’s talking about losing rabbits. You and I both know he lost his paycheck at the ring toss.

Evelyn: (chuckling) And don’t get me started on Millie Thompson. Neither of them ever danced with her. She was too busy chasing the dentist’s boy.

Martha: (smiling wryly) Truth is, between the two of them, they couldn’t remember their own names without us.

Evelyn: (laughing) And yet, somehow, they think they’re the wise ones.

(The women clink their iced tea glasses, listening as Harold and Frank burst into laughter outside for no apparent reason.)

Martha: Let ‘em talk. Half of it’s wrong, but it keeps ‘em happy.

Evelyn: (nodding) And after fifty years, that’s what matters.