Once, many years ago, on another continent, I was working with a couple that was having serious marital difficulties. The wife was certain that her husband was not being honest with her as to where he was in the evenings. He was a military officer and it certainly was possible that he would have to work through dinner and not return home until late, but she didn’t believe him.

She had a couple of friends, wives of other officers, and just as patients in a waiting room end up trading symptoms, well, one after the other decided that her husband also was lying about where he was and what he was doing if he didn’t get home on time.

The women, though, decided to check out their husbands, and so one evening, they followed one of the husbands as he left work. He went to a bar. They got out of their car and peeked into the bar, hiding behind doors and window curtains. They saw him talking to another man, having a couple of beers, talking to another man or two, and then get into his car. The women raced to the car they had come in so that the wife would be home when he got there. However, she had to drop off the other two wives before she could get home and so when she arrived home, her husband was waiting for her and asking where she had been.

I don’t know what she said, but some people never learn, because the next night the three women again followed one of the husbands. This time the man stopped in front of a home in the town near the Army base. They watched as he entered the house. They hid in the bushes with binoculars and one was able to see him sitting on a sofa watching a football game with another man. Finally, they left.

The three women continued their expeditions, trying in vain to trip up their husbands, not realizing that there was a basic lack of trust on both parts that was driving a wedge into all three of the marriages. These evening outings turned into fodder for lies and misrepresentations thus increasing the distrust and distance that were instrumental in bringing these men to go out without telling their wives in the first place. But, in my opinion, the women were making matters worse by carrying on in a rather infantile manner.

After all, the world isn’t like television. This isn’t “I Love Lucy” and it isn’t a soap opera. In the real world, following people and hiding in the bushes and making up stories to cover one’s tracks just doesn’t work. The “First Wives Club” is FICTION. Relationships are built on love and respect and honesty and integrity. Even if we think our spouse is being less than truthful, we need to maintain our own moral standards. We cannot allow someone else’s behavior serve as a justification for ours.

Often when couples are in conflict, one or the other will revert to infantile behavior such as lying, blaming, and sneaking around. I try to encourage the other person to be “the grownup.” As a matter of fact, I have frequently told wronged spouses, “Somebody has to be the grownup.” When one person is out of control, the other has to stay sane. If a calm discussion is impossible, then a third party might be needed to provide a safe atmosphere. Some people have a clergyperson or lay religious leader who can help. Some people see a marital therapist, but in some way, both spouses have to be able to speak honestly about their differences and misunderstandings instead of acting like sitcom or soap opera characters. And somebody has to be the grownup.

If we were able to chart a person’s development, I believe it would be possible to pinpoint certain incidents and people who had a profound effect on the person that no one would have guessed. We commonly believe that the most important influences in a person’s life are parents, to some extent teachers, and then finally, friends.

As I think about what made me who I am today, I think that two of the most important influences were my grandmothers. I have already written a bit about my mother’s mother—about lighting Sabbath candles with her and feeling warm and cozy. She was someone who loved me unconditionally. I have not yet written about my father’s mother, a woman who also loved me unconditionally. She was a very interesting woman, a talented woman, and I think she was a “closet” family therapist.

My father’s mother, Yetta Mager, came to the US from Russia. She married and raised five children, three girls and two boys. My father was her second child and the older of her two sons. I was the oldest of her grandchildren. She was a seamstress who worked in what later was termed a “sweatshop.” She was talented and her job was to sew the top fronts of ladies’ dresses, a job reserved for only the best of seamstresses. I remember visiting her at work once. It was probably the noise of the sewing machines that contributed to her hearing loss.

There are a lot of wonderful memories I have of my grandmother— her open welcoming arms, her happiness at seeing us, and the “vasser-milich” (hot water with milk and sugar) she made me. I remember her beautiful colored dairy dishes and I remember the Chanuka menorah as it was lit. I remember the big Passover seder she prepared each year and can still picture the whole family gathered around her dining room table.

I remember being amused and impressed when she told me that she and my grandfather were going to take English lessons. To me she was an old woman—to think of her learning was incongruous, but I admired her for making the effort.

I remember two really important things she used to say. As I little girl, I liked when she tickled me. Of course, I also needed her to stop when I was giggling too hard. I would be laughing and laughing and saying, “Stop it!” and she would stop, but always while saying, “Stop it; I like it!” It was the first time I ever heard of a concept that I would learn was a mixed message. I came to learn that people get confused about what they want, what feels good and what feels bad, and when too much is too much.

The second thing she told me was in response to my complaining about someone being “mad” at me. She said, “He’s mad; so he’ll get glad.” It was my introduction to the lability of human emotions. I had never thought before about the fact that someone who is angry could at some time in the future be not angry. I came to understand that emotions are temporary and that a relationship can heal.

She was a woman who had a wonderful natural wisdom. Had she lived in a different time, she would have been able to achieve great things in academia. Instead, she was an inspiration for me and a warm, loving presence in my life, an anchor in the stormy sea. She would have been proud of my achievements.

My grandmother was blessed with living long enough to get to know four of my children. I believe that her greatest pride would be in her grandchildren, great-grandchildren and the great-greats who already are engaged in the study of torah and the work of improving the world.

They say that happiness is a warm puppy. Well, if so, someone wanted me to be very very very very happy.

Yesterday morning, as I was getting ready to go out and teach two seminars (one in the morning and one in the afternoon), we heard a noise outside our apartment door as if someone was mistreating a dog. When my husband opened the door, imagine his surprise when he found a box containing a pillow, blanket, and four puppies.

Yes, they were adorable. Each little brown puppy had a beautiful little puppy face and cute little puppy ears and they were little rascals, biting at each other and rolling over and chasing one another and they put on quite a show.

But I had to leave and my husband, unfortunately, was stuck with the puppies all day.

My daughters advertised them on our local community email list. One daughter came over and took digital pictures and my son posted them on the web. When I got home, the house was a nursery. All over the living room there were puppies, playing running, and yes, doing other things that people don’t like done on their living room floor.

A friend came over and took one of the puppies. Of course, she wasn’t sure whether she could keep the puppy because her husband is not a big dog fan. So last night, we had only (only!) three puppies. We put them in the garden room behind the house and when we got up this morning, they had availed themselves of all of its facilities. My husband held them and petted them and fed them and even cleaned up the mess. But the problem remained: what to do with them?

We understood that if we called the local city vet, they would take the puppies, but if the puppies weren’t adopted fairly quickly, they would be euthanized. We certainly didn’t want that to happen. We contacted the local self-proclaimed selfless, self-sacrificing, animal-loving veterinarian who said that yes, he would take the puppies for a fee of about $40 a puppy to cover the walking and food until he found them homes. We called number of animal rescue organizations. Funny how they always do great work when they’re collecting for charity, but when you actually need them to rescue an animal, they become singularly unhelpful and even abusive.

My husband understood that in my current weakened state, these puppies were too much for me, so he took them first to a neighbor who had had two very large dogs and offered one to her. She snatched it up. Then he went to the local shopping center and within about two hours, the remaining two puppies had found homes.

When he returned home empty-handed, I declared him my hero for life! Maybe real happiness is a husband who is totally devoted to you….