41-years ago today, I left the safety and comfort of my parents' home and married the boy who got me "in trouble" with our second-grade teacher when he whispered something to me, and when I responded, the teacher got angry with me for talking in class and put my name on the blackboard.
Back then, having your name written on the upper left corner of the blackboard for the day was devastating! I didn't get over it; the remainder of the school year, I carried a grudge, noting how silly his mother made him look in his too-big pants pulled way up over the top of his waistline with a belt squeezed so tight it made the pants pucker and gather and exposed his ankles at the bottom. (Can you say, "Waiting for a flood?)
By the time we were in sixth-grade, we were good friends (he was clearly dressing himself), and before the school year ended, we were playing Spin the Bottle at a friend's party (a kissing game that was popular back in 'days of yore'). After that weekend of pure bliss, he asked me to go steady. In my end-of-elementary-school autobiography, I wrote that I was in love with this cute boy and that I would marry him.
Although interests (mine band and his wrestling) and attending a high school that had so many students (4,200) that we had three separate shifts pulled us in different directions, we remained friendly acquaintances. Until college, when - there he was in my Geology class. Thank goodness for a familiar face.
We went to a party, but he actually was there with my college roommate. So, when we ran out of wine (Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill - 79-cents a bottle), we sent her to the store to buy more. While she was gone, I kind of moved in on him. Shame on him for letting me and shame on me, I know, but it was the best move I've ever made.
From the start, my parents always loved him. He looked my father in the eye when they'd shake hands, and he spoke to my mother with great respect.
There's no doubt that we've had our ups and downs; hives, financial woes, trust issues, wanting one's way, serious health crisis, raising a child together, and more, but we've made it through them all - because marriage is work. And, we knew that from the beginning. It takes complete commitment to make it this far, and that's the one thing I can say without a shadow of a doubt - we are committed.
We are committed to making our lives together the best that we can do. That doesn't mean having, owning, or doing the grandest, most expensive things. It doesn't mean always winning the battles. It does mean 41-years of give and take, of respecting one another's feelings and commitment to an issue, of both listening and talking, of having fun with each other, of appreciating space, of two being one and each being two.
When my father passed away 13-years ago, my parents had been married 64-years.When my husband's father passed away, his parents had been married for 44-years. Both of our parents went through many trials, and both taught us the value of taking the bad with the good.
I look forward to 41 more years with the boy who became my soul mate. If this past weekend is any indication, there's still a whole lotta' fun in front of us, and I'm ready for the ride!
I love you, Mom and Dad, for doing the best you could with what you knew and showing me how to make it work.
