22 and Counting

Hubby and I celebrated our 22nd wedding anniversary this past weekend.   It's was a fairly tame celebration with a wonderful steak dinner and a little walk around the downtown area.  When I think about all the time we've been married, my first thought was, "My, how time flies!"  My second?  It is a good man indeed who puts up with all of my shenanigans.  Thank goodness, he tolerates me 'cause no one else would.  I am truly blessed.

Almost Golden

Had Mama J. lived she and Papa T. would have marked their 50th wedding anniversary this December. On the way to the cemetery Saturday, Papa T. joked that she would have wanted to have a big celebration for that, and he’s right. She would have, complete with floral arrangements and matching tablecloths. But it’s like I told him, fifty years of marriage is worth celebrating. Their partnership has left me with an example of what marriage is about.


Their union was no more perfect than anyone else’s. I don’t think you can have a “perfect marriage”. It’s just too hard to work through the day to day of raising a family and sharing a home without some bumps along the way, but their marriage was unique in that Papa T. knew at an early age he would go blind as an adult. Mama J. knew that when they got married and agreed to support him when he eventually lost his eyesight. Glaucoma robbed him of his dream to be a veterinarian and of caring for the family farm. He changed his college major to education, figuring he would always be able to earn a living that way, even when he lost his vision. He was right. He had a very successful career as a teacher, administrator and eventually the superintendent of a local school system. Mama J. was right there beside him the whole time, making sure he was sharply dressed, that he didn’t show up for work in one brown shoe and one black shoe and generally took care of little details that could have made him less professional in the workplace as his eyes started to fade. In the last few years, when his eyesight left him, she was still making sure he got what he needed, administering his eye drops on time and reading the newspaper to him each day. Even though she hated sports scores. It wasn’t always easy for her, especially as her health declined, but she did it. In her death, he lost his eyes and ears, and that’s going to be hard on him.

As I pondered this during my run today, it made me think about marriage in general. In the past year, I’ve gone to a few weddings, and at each one I couldn’t help but think to myself that those newlyweds had no idea what lay before them. Marriage truly is a partnership. Help mates get us through life’s ups and downs. There are good times in marriage; the birth of children and grandchildren, great vacations, home purchases and just the fun of having lively family dinners together. But there are so many hard times, too, and it’s those hard times that break or cement a relationship. A successful marriage is sharing in the good times and the bad. It’s helping your mate pick out a casket for his parent, propping them up during grief over a loved one or a lost job. It’s trimming the fingernails of your elderly father in law when your spouse is afraid of hurting him. And it’s holding your mate’s head over the toilet when the flu has taken control and wiping up the mess that comes with that. Surviving those things gives you a connection with your mate that deepens your love for each other as the years pass. Life was not always easy for Mama J. and Papa T.. Besides the glaucoma, they buried two children, two grandchildren and a great grandchild along the way. But they had many good times together, and that will sustain Papa T. in the months ahead. Those memories will prop us up, too. We’ve had several laughs in the past few days about things Mama J. said and did. One day I’ll tell you the grilled cheese story. But for now, I’ll simply ponder the time between the beginning and end of their forty-nine years together and hope to do so well.

I Do

As I was editing wedding photos recently I couldn’t help but think a lot about marriage and how it evolves after those newlywed years. It really takes on a life of its own, doesn’t it? Couples’ counseling prior to the wedding is popular these days, especially within some religious denominations, but frankly there is some stuff counseling just can’t prepare you for. There are some things that aren’t discussed prior to marriage because it’s a lot like childbirth in that if we knew all there is to know about it, we probably wouldn’t ever do it. We’d just die off instead of procreating if we knew in advance about mucus plugs and episiotomies. One of the most astonishing things about childbirth for me was the morning after when the nurse came in, rolled my exhausted arse over and said cheerily, “Let’s check you for hemorrhoids.” “Holy crap! Hemorrhoids?” I practically yelled. Somehow I had missed that chapter in all of my What to Expect When You’re Expecting reading. Fortunately, I passed the test with flying colors, but it certainly would have made pregnancy less appealing had I known about that and that whole mucus plug thing in advance. Same goes for marriage. We would certainly give it more consideration if we knew all the unwritten rules in advance. There are a lot of things you do in marriage that you don’t say “I do” to at the wedding.

For instance, in heterosexual marriages the husband always drives the oldest vehicle in the driveway. The wife is supposed to have the “dependable” transportation, presumably because she’s less inclined to know how to jumpstart the thing if it dies in traffic. This rule seems to be a holdover during those sexist times prior to the invention of cell phones. These days, my plan for car trouble is to walk to the nearest coffee shop and call Triple AAA, but I still adhere to the wife gets the good car rule because it works to my advantage. Hubby is driving a 1983 pick-up truck.
Also, if the loaf of bread is nearly gone, the husband gets the sandwich with the heel. He must also eat any scraps left on the children’s plates. Eventually, he will get so used to it that he actually thinks he prefers the heels AND every meal ends with him asking, “Are you going to eat that?”

Men are also always supposed to lie about the size of their wife’s backside. Hubby adheres to this one religiously. It’s the only thing he’s allowed to lie to me about. If my fanny gets to be the size of Mount Rushmore he is still supposed to say “no” when I ask if those pants make my butt look big. Some men never learn this rule. They’re called divorcees.

Personally, I’ve always thought the best pre-wedding test for marriage readiness is the flu. You shouldn’t get married to someone unless you and your finance have suffered through the flu together. I don’t mean a runny nose cold. I mean a full blown case of the lie in the floor and ask for last rites flu. If a man will clean up your vomit, check on you every hour to make sure you haven’t expired and bring you toilet paper when the diarrhea kicks in unexpectedly, he’s a keeper. If he won’t ladies, run like you have the trots. And if you’re not willing to bring him toilet paper if he’s the sick one then you are not ready to share your life with him.

In fact, the bathroom in itself is kind of a benchmark for relationships. You can often tell how long a couple has been married by the state of the door when one of them is using the potty. If it’s closed, they’re newlyweds. If they shout through a partially closed door, they’ve been married approximately three to five years. If they will have a fifteen minute conversation about paint colors while one sits on the edge of the tub clipping her toenails and the other stinks up the joint, they’ve passed their tenth anniversary. Prior to the wedding you can’t imagine that happening, but when you spend a lot of time under one roof together you eventually have to do number two and pass gas in the presence of your spouse. One day you just get tired of holding it in. Besides, it’s a little like bungee jumping. Once you’ve done it the first time, it’s not so intimidating anymore.

In fact, marriage as a whole is a lot like bungee jumping. It can be crazy wild and downright scary. Sometimes, you feel like you’re flying blindly. Other times you just want to surrender. It can be terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. My advice to newlyweds? Don’t worry so much about the rules; just hang on for dear life. And don’t worry about the bathroom door. There are aspects of marriage that are a whole lot scarier than seeing your partner on the pot.

Wham!

After twenty years of marriage there should probably be this unspoken agreement that Hubby and I never debate over who is right and who is wrong when it comes to the little stuff. We should have this symbiosis that allows us to peacefully coexist in a home where it doesn’t really matter who is right and who is wrong. Notice I said “should”.

Most of the time it works that way since we’re usually too busy or too tired to fuss over much. And honestly, at this stage of life it rarely matters who is correct. Notice I said “rarely”. We bite our tongues a lot. A LOT as we both enjoy being right and neither one us likes to be told what to do or how to do it. Despite the occasional urge to whack each other over the head with a 2 by 4 because someone didn’t read the instructions or Hula left the gas tank on empty, we have few “I told you so” moments. However, there are days when the urge to claim victory wells up and swallows up one of us. Usually me. I don’t know why. It just does. Gosh darn it, it just feels good to be right sometimes and to point it out to he who isn’t.

Like the last time we left downtown Nashville, and I hollered for Hubby to turn right, RIGHT I SAID! He wanted to go left because our GPS, Desdemona, said to go left. I’m here to tell ya’ Desdemona was a bee-atch on our last trip, and she had us lost as Easter eggs the whole time. I said I didn’t care what Desdemona thought, we needed to go right because that would take us right to Interstate 24 where we needed to go. “Okay, we’ll do it YOUR way,” Hubby said. He just knew we were going to get turned around and wanted to prove me wrong. We rode in silence. A few miles down the road we passed under the sign that said “I-24 West” and I said, “Ha! I knew it!” I may or may not have pointed my finger at him.

Flash forward to this past Saturday when I was standing in the yard getting ready to try out the new hammock for just a minute. (By the way, I still have not napped in it yet.) As I leaned back to get into it, Hubby came rushing up and said, “Wait, wait, let me show you how to do it!” Only it wasn’t a cheery helpful, “Let me help you into it dear” kind of tone. It was more of an “I’m the only one who really knows how to do this so stand back little Missy and let me show you the right way to do it so you don’t hurt yourself” kind of tone. The man watches way too many John Wayne movies. As I started to say something sassy the Nashville incident flashed through my head and I told myself to shut my pie hole and just watch as it wasn’t worth not so nice words. As it turned out I was rather glad I did. Hubby leaned back, rolled into the hammock, relaxed and promptly flipped over. He hit the ground with a loud thud faster than a jack rabbit on a date. It was kind of like our kayak in Barbados incident but with less blood. I clamped my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. He glanced around to see if the neighbors were in their backyard, and since they were, he quietly shuffled into the house mumbling something about how I could probably do it myself. I rolled my smug hind end into the hammock and lay there giggling. And then when it was time to get out, I made sure no one was watching and rolled out of it very slowly because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about marriage over the last twenty years, it’s that she who laughs loudest usually falls on her face when she least expects it.

An Unexpected Turn of Events

While I was at work today, SOMEBODY moved our clothing to the new house. Every last stitch of it. As in emptied out the walk-in closet and left Hula with a winter hat and a coconut bra. As in Hula had to go down to the new house to pick up something to wear to work tomorrow. SOMEBODY mentioned that I wanted HIM to speed up this moving process, so he was just trying to accommodate me. SOMEBODY was smiling sweetly as he explained that.

And I think I heard him whisper, "Checkmate."

Ha! A worthy opponent is he.

Wedded Bliss

Whew! We are all wedding-ed out. Super Cop got married, a good time was had by all and the closest thing we had to a disaster was the temporary loss of a little heirloom item that turned up today. But let's not tell Baby Ruth about that, okay? What she doesn't know won't hurt us.

Super Cop got married in the same chapel my parents were married in 45 years ago. Hubby and I said our vows in the sanctuary of that church eighteen years ago, and two generations of our family have attended that church for decades, so it was kind of cool to have yet another wedding there. The fun thing about second weddings is that the event is not about "the wedding". It's about the marriage. No one's sweating bullets over bridesmaid shoes or bouquets. Everyone is pretty relaxed and ready to have a good time. We had great food, two kinds of cake and a lot of time with relatives I haven't seen in a while.

I have more relatives than you can shake a stick at. Daddy had eight brothers and sisters so his side of the family alone would fill up Yankee stadium. I can't even name all of my cousins. Several of Daddy's brothers and sisters were there yesterday, and as I spent time with them I realized there are a lot of years of marriage between them. Daddy and Mama have 45 years together. There's Uncle Paul and Aunt Betty who have been married for about 55 years, I think. Aunt Katherine and my late Uncle Bill had about fifty years together. Aunt Betty and Uncle Louis have been married for more than thirty years. The other siblings have racked up multiple decades of marriage, too. It's quite remarkable, especially given the tough times some of them have had over the years. As I listened to them talk and joke I realized that a sense of humor has been a big part of their partnerships, especially Aunt Betty's and Uncle Paul's. They crack me up. Well in their 70's, they are always sparring and teasing and provided me with the best laugh I had yesterday. Their conversation went like this:

Aunt Betty: He's getting so forgetful. One of these days he's going to leave the house, forget where home is and end up at someone else's house.

Uncle Paul: I hope she's good lookin'.

Aunt Betty: Ha. I doubt it. Just wait. He'll get lost. That's why I put his name in all of his underwear.

Uncle Paul: Like anyone would look.

Aunt Betty: Certainly not me.

Uncle Paul: You're naughty.

Aunt Betty: I know. Get your coat. Everybody's leaving and we want to get out of here before we have to help clean up.

Uncle Paul: Where did I leave my coat?

I hope Hubby and I are that funny when we're old. I know he'll be that forgetful. He already is. Hmm. Come to think of it, maybe I need to put his name in his underwear.

Wedding Songs

I’ve been putting together some music play lists and CD’s for Super Cop’s wedding reception this weekend. Once again, he has foolishly trusted his big sister to do the right thing. When will he ever learn? Actually, I’ve been on my best behavior and have put together a collection of appropriate material, ranging from his and his finance’s old favorites to romantic standards by Dean Martin and Louie Armstrong. I think it’s a rather nice mix of stuff that should be appropriate for the occasion. I wouldn’t want to do anything to tarnish the day. It doesn’t mean I haven’t been tempted to have a little fun, though. Really tempted…sorely tempted….just to throw in a song or two with a funny title that might cause a few guests to snort Starlight Punch through their noses in the middle of the reception.

Maybe it’s just my immaturity rearing its gnarly head because I think it would be really funny if something like Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get it On popped up in the play list. Or maybe a little Talk Dirty to Me by Poison. It would be awfully funny to see Aunt B.’s face when that one came on. Since I love my little brother AND I want to stay in this family, I will resist the urge. However, as someone who’s been married for eighteen years, I thought I would put together a separate CD to represent those years of marriage yet to come. Those years when the romance has worn off and you’ve spent time in the trenches battling bills, children and each other and are still hanging on. Ladies and gentleman, I give you:
Marriage-The Ultimate Collection.

1. Bills, Bills, Bills-blues favorite by Koko Taylor. For that never ending cycle of debt that increases exponentially with each year of marriage and the birth of each child.
2. Love is a Battlefield-Pat Benatar. Years 1, 2, 7 and 11 for most folks.
3. A Little Less Conversation & A Lot More Action-Elvis. What you long for after about the twelfth year.
4. Flirtin’ With Disaster-Molly Hatchet. When she reaches for the remote or he dares to truthfully answer the question “Does this make my butt look big?”
5. Chains-Patty Lovelace. Days when you wish you were the recreation director on a cruise ship instead of a spouse and parent.
6. Delirious-Prince. How you feel after spending the whole night wiping up vomit, washing sheets and praying for the diarrhea to stop.
7. It’s All Over Now-Rolling Stones. When you come home to find a new boat sitting in the driveway.
8. You Can’t Always Get What You Want-Rolling Stones. When the boat goes right back to the dealer.
9. Heaven Help Us All-Stevie Wonder. Your teenager gets his driver’s license.
10. Trouble-Pink. Your daughter starts to date.
11. Still Crazy After All These Years-Paul Simon. Your in-laws after about the fifteenth year.
12. Mad Season-Matchbox Twenty. Menopause.
13. Get this Party Started-Pink. The kids all move out.
14. Looks Like We Made It-Barry Manilow. Retirement.
15. I’m Gonna Love You Just A Little Bit More-Barry White. How to get through cuts 1-14.

Order your copy here. You won’t find this CD in any store. Act now and I’ll throw in a free “How to Stay Married for Fifty Years Kit” which includes a cattle prod, some rose colored glasses, a few Viagra tablets and a cheap bottle of wine. My darling brother gets a free copy of this and the music we’re playing at the reception…minus the Marvin Gaye and Poison.

Long And Lasting Love

Love is in the air in the Hula family. My middle brother is getting married in a couple of weeks. This is the second marriage for him and his fiancé, so they don’t want a big wedding. It will be simple but special, kind of like Mama and Daddy’s wedding 45 years ago. A month from now my parents will celebrate their 45th wedding anniversary. They don’t have any big plans for marking the occasion, but perhaps we can fix that. It’s certainly worth celebrating.

As I was digging around in old photos this past week, I found this one. I love this picture.

It captures their relationship, then and now, perfectly. For as long as they’ve been together, Daddy has been laughing and teasing Mama, and Mama has been rolling her eyes at him. Sometimes the roll is accompanied by an elbow to the ribs or a light smack on his arm. She probably rolls her eyes at him more than Teen Angel rolls hers at me, and that’s saying a lot. They are quite the pair, kind of opposite, but quite alike.

They’ve weathered a lot over the years and have really been perfect partners for each other. As a kid growing up, I thought everyone came from the same Beaver Clever kind of family I did. Mama didn’t wear dresses and pumps around the house, but she stayed at home with us kids, shuttled us to school functions, clapped at our musicals and held an office in the PTO. Daddy was the breadwinner, working swing shift but squeezing in time for each of us in between fixing our cars and mowing the yard. We ate dinner together and took summer vacations. I saw my parents bicker but never saw them argue. They never made financial decisions without discussing them. They showed each other affection and always treated each other with respect. It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized how rare and special that was.

In their silver years, they still treat each other with respect, still laugh at their mistakes and still take vacations together. They have very part time jobs to give themselves a few hours away from each other during the week but enjoy each other’s company the rest of the time. He makes her laugh, and she loves to laugh. Daddy is still teasing Mama, and there are days when she wants to throttle him, but she usually just rolls her eyes, makes some kind of half-hearted attempt at trying to keep him in line and moves on. As I watch their marriage and mine mature, I am struck by how much marriage is really about taking care of each other. I was backing out of the driveway the other morning when Hubby flagged me down to bring me my gloves. Earlier I had scratched his back. Taking care of each other. That’s what it’s all about. The romance is still there, but it flickers and smolders more than it flames. That’s okay. It’s really just a part of the whole equation. Super Cop is still in that white hot flaming part of his relationship. I wish him a world of happiness with this marriage, but most of all, I’m glad he has someone to take care of…and someone to take care of him. We all need that, especially in our Harvest Moon years.