God was willing and the creeks didn't rise, so all was a "go" for my recent trip to Southeast Missouri to attend my nephew Henley's nuptials. The weather was beautiful as were the newlyweds, and the mighty Mississippi hadn't overtaken our town.

Henley was my first nephew, my sister's first child, and my parent's first grandchild. Perhaps because I somewhat share those demographics, I have always had a soft spot in my heart for this kid. Born prematurely, Henley had a rough beginning. He and his parents fought to establish him securely in life, and the results were in bloom on a June day when he wed his fiancee, Libby.

I really got to know Henley well when he was 4. That was around the time when he was full of questions and my sister, now swaddling another son, was in need of some relief. "He has questions," I remember her saying. "Hopefully you've got some answers; I have exhausted mine."

So off we would go, walking down the lane near my parent's home, with Henley shooting questions at his uncle in rapid-fire sequence. "Where does God live?" "Do gorillas eat chickens?" "Why do you live so far away?"

I tried my best to answer.

Looking back, I realize how precious those inquisitive walks were. In the blink of an eye, Henley became a teenager and decided it was not in his best interest to speak with anyone who was older, especially if they looked suspiciously like a "grown up."

But as we all know, time changes everything, and in recent years we have re-engaged in a lively and ongoing dialogue, mostly through e-mail and mostly about political topics. Both uncle and nephew are curious fellows but somehow we have ended up on opposite sides of the political spectrum. Henley sends his "left coast" uncle all kinds of propaganda, and his uncle replies with his often opposing views. More often than not we find some middle ground to settle within.

I have never taken advantage of Henley's curiosity, nor my position as the psychologist uncle, to offer gratuitous advice. I did make one exception when I advised him to not get married before the age of 30. "Odds of a successful long-term marriage increase significantly with the age of marital inception for the male," I said.

By the way, this counsel was not based on any personal bias but on empirical evidence that men tend to mature more slowly than women. Modern men seem to recognize this as the average age men marry is creeping upward and now stands at 28. I am not sure if this generation of men is putting off marriage because they believe they are emotionally immature. Surveys cite financial reasons as a primary deterrent, along with the perceived risk posed by the high divorce rate and less cultural pressure.

Henley may not pay attention to my advice of who to vote for, but he did seem to pay attention to my advice on when to get married. He and Libby waited and did their due diligence. They even weathered a serious health scare and learned what every domestic partnership needs to know: Who they can count on when the going gets tough.

"I almost made it, Uncle Mike," said a smiling Henley, who will turn 30 later this year. When I saw Henley standing at the altar watching as the radiant Libby walked toward him, I knew that he had learned the wisdom behind the old saying: All good things come to those who wait.

Dr. Michael O.L. Seabaugh, a Cape Girardeau native, is a clinical psychologist who lives in Santa Barbara, Calif. Contact him at mseabaugh@semissourian.com For more on the topics covered in Healthspan, visit his Web site: www.HealthspanWeb.com.