Twenty four weeks from saying “I do,” means always taking advice.

Tonight I was at a bar, Dana had walked away to use the restroom and an older gentleman approached. The bartender smiled, reached for a nice bottle of whiskey and a rocks glass. “I won’t tell her about this one either,” she said.

He smiled, laughed a bit, then replied, “Oh she knows. After 43 years, she knows everything.”

I asked if that was the secret to his long relationship—a lack of secrets. He told me it was more simple than that. Be loyal, he told me. Don’t cheat, steal or lie but if you’re loyal, in any relationship, it will last. That’s how family becomes friends and love last, he said.

We clinked glasses. Might be the best advice a stranger ever gave me.

Beauty and the Beast was a big party of my Disney childhood.

Singing all the songs, particularly “Bonjour!”, was a favorite pastime. In fifth grade, my best friend Lauren and I even dressed up as Belle. She was the Belle at the ball and I was the girl in town. (Like I said, I really liked the opening number.) When the chance to see a childhood favorite in 3D, Ash and I were in. Not only were we in, but a few other girlfriends opted to join us. Funny, we weren’t the only adult ladies who chose to spend a Friday evening out reminiscing. Girls over 20 definitely outnumbered the ladies whose ages have yet to hit double digits.

Eager, excited, armed with a purse full of candies bought at the grocery store, we sat down, put on our glasses and my world started to fall apart. Maybe going to see a childhood classic was a mistake. So many holes in the story became very apparent.

The prince must find love by his 21st birthday? What!? That’s a shitty lesson for girls. You’re old right after you can legally drink ladies. Hmm… And if the spell breaks on his 21st birthday — the spell the house has been under for 10 years — why are the paintings of the beast showing him as an adult? Would he have been 10, or 11? The villagers never knew the beast was out there. First off, no one noticed a kingdom was gone? It was only 10 years. What kind of memory do these people have? And, if they didn’t know, how did they know how to find the castle once Gaston decided to lead the mob to the doors?

One might point out this is based on a magical premise that would never be, really could never be. Yeah, I get that. So many logistical issues with the story. Sad really that as a child I simply bought into the fantasy that a girl who was a bit nerdy could find love. Thankfully, regardless of the questions, I still walked away with that warm fuzzy love for nerdy girls.

Since we are little we’re told, without a doubt, some actions are good and others are bad. It’s a definitive thing; black and white. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about how wrong that is. Few things in life are completely good or bad. Funny, it seems people rarely talk about the gray area.

The in between has been forefront for me since going to Germany and visiting Dachau. Lessons had always focused on the evil that led to such a horrible situation — true. Many of those captured were faced with doing something horrible or death. Surviving meant starting over with nothing and having a place filled with horrific memories as the closest thing you’ve known to “home” in years. Fatal experiments were done, torturing those involved but resulting in discoveries that benefited those still living today.

This visit has planted a consideration in my mind that I can’t shake: What makes something or someone bad? And, if you consider them bad, does that really make them bad? Or, are you simply not privy to a side shared with others? Numerous historic figures were married, for example. Seems like there was at one point love in their heart.

This week the thoughts were fed thanks to the WNYC Radiolab podcast— Shout out to my Stitcher app for suggesting it — entitled the bad show. It explored the idea of being bad. One interesting theory debated was that of wanting to give people the benefit of the doubt. In literature and movies, many people doing bad have a reason; something happened and they snapped or they’re forced to do horrible acts to save those they love. We as the audience want there to be a reason. As I write this, I’m watching a special talking to young people who kill and asks them why? Do they feel remorse now? Am I drawn to this for an interest in violence? No; I often want to know why. I honestly expect there to be a reason; there has to be. But does there?

Does it matter why someone does something bad? If so, who defines bad.

Probably the last one to watch “The Help,” but saw it last night and was reminded of segregation evils. Everyday acts of disrespect which were accepted by many as acceptable. In fact, in many states, thinking otherwise and working for the civil rights movement was illegal. So what we currently see as being the right thing to do was often seen as wrong there.

What are we doing today that will be viewed this way in 40 to 50 years? Gay rights instantly comes to mind, but that can’t be the only one.

Maybe it’s a relative question. We are all capable of good and bad. Snarky remarks among friends then volunteering — does it balance things out? Will it be like “Drop Dead Diva” where each action is calculated like a tally sheet. Ultimately we will have made either more nice or mean decisions in life. The winning tally determines your classification. It can’t be that simple.

Throw any belief in destiny into the equation and it’s more complicated. For now, I’m exploring the realization of the world’s shades of gray.

In less than 24 hours I learned the sex of a family member’s baby — a girl! — and that a fellow wish granter passed.

Funny sometimes the way life works. It’s wonderful to watch family and friends experience love, the growth of their families, new challenges, dirty diapers and the small little laughs that come from babies with cute little sausage arms and thighs. To answer questions about kindergarten — I may not have kids but covering education does make me some kind of weird education expert. What a wonderful start to the end of the week.

Friday morning had a call from a friend. It’s better to know, it is. You would think learning of news that someone in the Make-A-Wish family, someone I didn’t know well, wouldn’t be too impactful. Jon was in his early 30s and died unexpectedly while on vacation in Europe. His obituary, only three lines long, appears online without any further explanation. So young. Volunteering with Make-A-Wish means accepting there will be tears; both happy and sad drops have graced my cheek. Just this week, during our meeting, we spoke of two little ones who died. Their wishes were magical and impactful. Those little ones were fearless and, although they went too soon, I was prepared for it. Learning someone in my age range passed without notice was a bit different.

Still considering it. Ultimately it makes me want to focus more on the amazing details most of life holds. That’s going to be my lesson from this — celebrate the smaller things always.