This month, my parents are celebrating 50 years of marriage. People, that is 18,250 days, 54,750 meals, 13,035 episodes of Jeopardy and 350 major holidays together. Just shy of a 15-year union myself, I’ve had a tablespoon-size serving of the subtle art of sharing a life with another human, so I can admire the marathon these two kids have conquered.
Mom and Dad knew each other for several years before they began dating. But once they started smoochin’ it didn’t take long for them to decide to tie the knot. Six months, maybe. They had a small, simple ceremony on – fun fact – the same day my mom’s father got remarried. (Less than ideal, I’d say.) Their color was red, a bold choice for a bold romance. They had their reception in the church basement and danced off to the theme from “Love Story.”
The road has not always been smooth for my parents. In the beginning they literally collected change in a piggy bank so they could go out for dinner once every few months. My father had two heart attacks at a very young age, one shortly after starting his own business and with a fresh-faced baby at home (this girl!). Their parents passed. Mom battled and beat cancer. But truthfully, these hurdles jumped from the page like boogie men in an otherwise entertaining and joyful pop-up book.
Because my folks truly, sickeningly adore each other. I’ve had a front row seat for 40 of the 50 years they’ve been tethered, and I can tell you, they’re pretty much masters at the whole till-death-do-us-part promise thing. They understood the assignment.
Being witness to two people who are playing the long game definitely gives you some perspective on how to navigate your own marriage. In honor of my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, I want to share with you a short list of the lessons I’ve taken note of from the observation deck over the last five decades.
Clearly, you’re nuts.
My parents are almost always together. They work together, they live together, they eat and sleep together. And yet, their views of a reality they predominantly share for all intents and purposes, often differ. Mom always claims she told Dad about an event or appointment, but he never seems clued in. He attributes this to his ability to blend into the background, or, as he puts it, live as a mushroom who’s kept in the dark and fed shit. Mom attributes it to his senior brain.
My father’s ability to recall names and dates from the past is insane, but often comes after an exhaustive back-and-forth with my mom. Watching the two of them retrace their steps to an old colleague or classmate is how I imagine charades play out at a retirement home. We’re gonna get where we’re going, but it might take a while.
We always say that Mom and Dad need a reality show, though I’m not entirely sure who the target demographic would be there. They get themselves into the wildest situations and do the most ridiculous things. Dad’s known to fight people in his sleep to the point where he flips himself out of bed. He hikes his jeans up to his nipples and can recite every stupid commercial and dirty poem from his youth without prompting.
But his bride isn’t much better. In fact, one might argue she would be the star of the reality show. My brother calls Mom “America’s treasure.” You guys, this woman once ran from her shoelace because she thought it was a snake. She has fallen, tripped, slid, tumbled, collapsed, faceplanted on and over every surface you can imagine. Why she wasn’t, in a twist of poetic irony, named Grace, we’ll never know.
And when you put these two crazies together, it’s comedic dynamite. They love music, and if you’re ever privy to one of their private performances, you’ll notice they start at a low, synchronized hum before eventually building to a bold chorus, Mom always on a 5-second delay because she really doesn’t know the words and thinks that, by coming in late, none of us will notice.
And God help me, I just love ‘em to pieces for all of it. They are my trail mix of choice; full of nuts with plenty of sweet stuff sprinkled in.
Let’s be honest, the cheese is slowly sliding off of all of our crackers. I don’t trust a person who doesn’t look for their sunglasses for an hour only to discover them on their head. Who doesn’t walk a lap with their skirt tucked into their pantyhose or get to work to discover their coffee mug took a ride on the roof. Marriage is about running your freak flag up the pole and having your partner salute, knowing you’re going to salute right back.
Everyone has bodies buried in the backyard.
Hitch yourself to someone who knows where they are, doesn’t care and doesn’t dig them up during a fight. That is all.
Arguments are like farts; best to let ‘em rip in private.
When I was in elementary school, I was at a friend’s house and her parents started going at it about something the other forgot to get at the grocery. I remember thinking, “Oh my gosh, how will she pick which parent she is going to live with?”
Believe me when I say I never saw my parents fight growing up. Now, notice I didn’t say that my parents didn’t fight. I’m sure they did! How could you not? It’s as inevitable as spandex in a Super Bowl halftime show. But I’m so thankful they chose to hold onto it until after we were all out of the room. I came of age, after all, in the days of “Full House” (RIP, Bob Saget) and “Growing Pains” and “My Two Dads”. Couples didn’t break up. Maybe one died or was mysteriously just missing from the plot, but they didn’t fight or get divorced.
It’s a courtesy I extend to others in my own marriage. Let’s be honest, there’s nothing worse than watching a couple fight. It’s uncomfortable for everyone. I don’t know where to look or whether to offer a sympathetic courtesy laugh or eye roll. What am I doing with my hands? Do I run? No one wants to be courtside for your significant other smackdown. Sit on it for a minute and wait until the room clears out.
As they’ve gotten older, and I have as well, I’ve seen my parents get a little feisty with each other on the rare occasion. Nothing too intense but it would definitely keep the reality show spicy.
Laughin’ is livin’.
When people come around our family for the first time, I am certain they think we’re insane. We love nothing more than to gather around a table and tell the same stories we’ve told a thousand times, maybe with some new spice added, maybe not, and laugh our collective asses off. The more self-deprecating or embarrassing to one of our own, the better the reception.
In this life, there are moments to grieve and to be somber and to sit in silence, but laughter is the magic potion that fills all the spaces in between and makes processing the heavy stuff palatable. Laughter is the salve for the sore spots, and I truly believe it’s been the secret cement for my parents, and my entire family.
“If you can’t laugh at yourself, you’ll never make it,” Mom says.
Marriage is a team sport
In any good partnership, it’s important to 1) know your role, and 2) be prepared to get called up to the majors with little notice.
My mom is the queen of many things, but for the sake of brevity, here are just a few highlights:
- Making potato salad, deviled eggs, broccoli salad and any meat-and-potato combo
- Gift gifting
- Entertaining
- Problem solving
- Christmas. Full stop.
A few years ago, she slowly started losing mobility. Severe back issues and arthritis made it difficult for her to walk, get up out of chairs or stand upright for long periods of time. As you can imagine, this impacted all of her typical tasks.
Instead of abandoning the meals and traditions our family was accustomed to, my dad came up out of the bullpen and stepped in where he was needed. He started handling the grocery shopping and hauling in the shipments from the North Pole with only mild grumbling.
I guess the point is, there will come a day when your partner gets taken out of the game, be it due to injury (mental or physical), disease or dire straits of a different color. You have to be prepared to get tapped in and take the reins like a boss. Because that’s what it means to really show up for each other.
Love is the only thing that matters.
My dad will tell you he didn’t fall in love with Mom the first time he met her, when they were teenagers. But from the second those feelings changed, his love for her – and hers for him – has been unwavering. It’s one of the greatest truths of my life. As they welcomed each of the three little humans they created and watched our families grow, as adversity roared and subsided, in the face of almost losing each other, their bond never blinked. Not once.
I can’t explain the voodoo of the higher power that pairs people off in this world. I don’t know the magic formula of scent and sight and heart that triggers the chemical reaction of commitment. But I can tell you that the stars aligned for my parents, and we’ve all been blessed to blaze within their constellation.
It’s cliché, I know, but it is a miracle. Two people fell in love and a family was born. A family with three children and 11 grandchildren, 10 gutsy girls and one golden boy. A family tied tightly together in trials and laughter. A family that genuinely enjoys being with each other, because our relationships are an extension of the strong roots planted the day they said, “I do.”
Happy 50th anniversary to my two favorite crazy people. Keep being weird and loving each other so damn much. It’s cute.
