Thirty-four Years

Jim and I just celebrated our thirty-fourth anniversary last Saturday. I still remember the year we realized we had been living with each other longer than we had lived with our parents -- round about anniversary number twenty-three, I think it was. That seemed amazing.



The past thirty-four years certainly went a lot faster than I ever imagined they would.



The only marriage advice we got from anyone when we first married was from my father. He said: Don't kiss when you're sick. We have never kissed when we were sick.



Other than that, we don't have any secrets for staying married. We have, on occasion, gone to bed mad. Every day hasn't been idyllic. There have been really good times and really bad times. We have had struggles, joys, disappointments, and everything in between. No marriage is perfect and we are no exception.



When I give advice to young couples on the threshold of making what they expect to be a lifelong commitment to one another I share my daddy's advice. I also add my own advice: A good laugh is almost always better than good sex. And you remember the good laughs a lot longer and recall them more frequently.



Jim and I used to go up every year to Mt. Mitchell, N.C., in early October to camp. We had a little one man pop tent, two sleeping bags that zipped together, and assorted camping gear left over from Jim's high school camping days with his best friend, Erik -- who is still his best friend. (Funny how much your perspective changes over the years. Camping used to be roughing it for me, but now roughing it means a hotel with no concierge.)



On our yearly pilgrimages we enjoyed driving the Blue Ridge Parkway and stopping at all the overlooks and hiking trails. Jim, being the ingenious person he is, took some old fiberglass poles that had been used to mark golf course holes (I never asked how they came into his possession, but he brought them into the marriage so I had culpable deny ability.) and cut them off to become hiking sticks. One glorious day we had parked and hiked up the Balsam Trail, one of our favorites. Jim got ahead of me on the way back and was already at the edge of the parking lot, heading toward the car, when I headed down the last little hill. There I was with a stick that looked like the canes used by blind people and wearing my customary very dark glasses. The naughty in me came out and I began wildly flinging the 'cane' from side to side, tripping and crying out, "Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me again. It isn't funny when you leave me. Please..." I don't remember if we ever had sex on any of our camping trips, but I remember how often we have laughed at the retelling of that story.



Jim is a good sport, I must say. I get some of my best comic material from being married to him. I appreciate that he is so good natured and seems to appreciate how much I entertain people with my little stories about our marriage. Last week we were enjoying the company of our Dinners for Eight group that rotates meeting at each other's homes once a month for a meal we all contribute to. I shared two of my favorite stories about Jim and me. They were told mostly at Jim's expense, but he laughed as hard as anyone else.



Story number one: About seven years ago Jim was asked to take a special assignment in Missouri. We knew there was going to be a move after that, so we decided William, our youngest, and I would stay in Pennsylvania so he didn't have to be uprooted twice within about a year's time (James was already at Georgia Tech and it didn't affect him). Jim was able to come home about once a month and Will and I went out to see him, so it worked out alright.



One of my friends asked me if I missed Jim. I assured her I was alright and keeping up with a job and an active teen helped fill the gap. She sort of blushed and said, "I mean MISS (wink - wink) Jim." To which I replied: I have the dog. She hogs the bed. Snores. Smells bad. And isn't interested in sex. So, if you think about it, it is just like having Jim here.



In all honesty, I think I might have made the last part of that story up, but I have told it so often as truth that I can't actually remember. No matter, it elicits the response I want when I tell it and I love hearing people laugh that hard.



Story number two is true: Several years ago, when we lived in Birmingham, AL, Jim and I were enjoying a peaceful evening on our secluded deck listening to the frogs in the lake we lived on and watching the fireflies blink randomly in the trees. We probably had wine or a drink and had relaxed into chatting about our day. Why Jim still thinks he can still shock me is a mystery to me, but he still tries. He got up and assumed the 'stance' at the edge of the deck railing, looked back over his shoulder, grinned, and said, "Do you think I can piss of the deck?" Without thinking I replied, "I don't see why not. You piss off everyone else."



So, maybe we do have a secret. Recognize the bad, the disappointing, the hurtful, the sad, the unfortunate things in life as part of the package. But embrace and celebrate and recall often the things that are good, funny, uplifting, happy. Let those things serve as a life ring to hang onto and give you buoyancy when the waters of life threaten to pull you under and overwhelm you.