Sixty Years

Every week as part of my job I edit the Society section of our newspaper. Now, in a town as small as ours, I tend to think of it more as “society.” But anyway... Each week I see announcements come through for someone's wedding, anniversary, class reunion, new baby, etc. Oh, and obituaries, too.

This week I found myself writing an announcement for my parent's 60^th anniversary. Now, knowing them, it was difficult to write. I am used to people bringing in something already well written, or a form that holds the pertinent information from which I can cobble an announcement.

As I was writing it I realized that I know precious little about my parents and how they got married. I mean, I knew they sort of eloped and didn't have the big fanfare wedding that so many of us do. (guilty!) I thought they got married in Missouri. Or something like that.

Now, most announcements go something like this (names and events are totally fictional):

John and Mary Smith will celebrate their 50^th wedding anniversary on Saturday with a reception at Whatever Church at 2 p.m. John Smith and the former Mary Brown were married Oct. 1, 1962 at the Holy Church of Getting Married in Franklin, Ky. in a service performed by Rev. Snodberry.

The Smiths have four children, daughters Angie (Bubba) Jones and Helen (Frank) Rosenstein; two sons John (Mervis) Smith, Jr. and Bill (Arizona) Smith; The couple has 10 grandchildren, Anna, Bubba Jr. (BJ), KiKi, BeBe, JJ, John III (Trip), Penelope, Dexter, Roseanne and Willie. They also have 3 great-grandchildren. All reside in Franklin.

After the reception the couple has planned a skydiving trip. All friends and family are invited to attend.

No joke, I actually got a 50th where they were planning to skydive. Anway, when I read these and don't know the people, I imagine a great big loving family. I always think, now if families could just be like that, you know? Who knows what the truth is.

So, I write out my parents' announcement and it goes something like this:

Jack and Geneva Peyton recently celebrated their 60^th wedding anniversary with a small family dinner at their favorite restaurant. The couple was married Oct. 6, 1952 in Ringwood, a small town in northern Illinois.

The couple has two children, Marsha Herndon and Steve Peyton, and one son-in-law Mitch Herndon.

Hm. Yeah. So to recap. I have no kids. My brother never married AND he has no kids. And I didn't plan a party for them because we did the 50^th and they insisted they didn't want one.

WHO is a bigger failure at being a daughter than me?

It seems precious little to put out there to show for 60 years of marriage. I realized that we do measure a family by not just the people, but also progeny, activites, involvement, etc. It just doesn't tell the whole story, now does it.

I realized that perhaps if we wrote the truth in these, they'd tell more of the story. Be much more interesting. I found myself rewriting mom and dad's in my head to be something like this:

Jack and Geneva Peyton recently celebrated 60 years of marriage. Sadly, there was no party to celebrate because their daughter was “too busy” to plan something and said she “just had one ten years ago” and wasn't that enough.

The couple was married on a cool October Saturday after working all week and looking for a place without a 3 day waiting period. Their third attempt was successful and they obtained blood tests and a marriage license in Ringwood, Il and were married on the spot by a minister who was out working in his yard.

Although they wanted more, the couple have only two children. Daughter Marsha and son Steven. Much to their regret they have no grandchildren. Their daughter “doesn't want them.” They are also greatly disappointed by her leaving the church and feel she will burn in hell. Son Steven repented and returned to the church after a long absence. So he should be ok. He's found god, now if only he could find a good woman.

This of course is my own self-destructive thought process and should in no way be interpreted as theirs. Maybe it's my interpretation of how they feel. Possibly based on former events and conversations. Not that they'd come on out and say it. Anyway....

I do really love my parents and wish that I could be more of what they want out of a daughter. I'm really not a bad person, they just had other ideas for me. I'm simply not capable of it. And anyway, their raising me made me who I am so I owe them many, many thanks.

At the very least, they deserve all the riches in the world for making a marriage work through 60-damn-years! 

Feelin' Groovy!

Yesterday was the husband's birthday.

isn't he the cauuuutest thiiing???

Now, I'll be honest. I don't very often get sappy and lovey-dovey about our relationship.  I feel like after 17 years of being married we are past all of that stuff. We love each other and we show it. We care about each other and we show it. It's just not necessary to say it all the time to everyone in the world.

But I really, really love this man. And I know that he loves me. I KNOW that. I've never in our marriage felt one iota of jealousy because he always makes sure I know how much he loves me and how he is committed to me.

He lets me be crazy when I want to and reigns me back in when he needs to. He indulges me when he can and is honest with me when he needs to be. He always believes in me and my talents, even though he is sometimes the only one who does.

He stuck with me through years of serious and undiagnosed depression, when all I could tell him was "I just don't feel right". Through anger and sadness that I couldn't even explain. When we talked about it later, much much later, I asked him why he stayed. Why didn't he leave me?

"Because I made a commitment. And I love you. That's why," was all he said.

We've come through the roughest of the rough patches together, he and I, and things now are amazingly great. We are happy. It's not always been that way, and a lot of people don't know that, but it is good now.

This blog, for better or worse, is about what's going on in my life and what's going on in my head. Today, I am just overwhelmed with love for my husband, and I though just once I'd give in and let people know that.

People ask him all the time what he did to deserve me. I ask myself all the time, "what did I do to deserve him?" Honestly.

Heartbreak and Heartmending

Today, I was prompted through FaceBook to read a post by Emily Giffin at one of my favorite sites, Chick Lit is Not Dead. Emily is author to some of the most enjoyable books I have read over the last few years. Her books are a lot of fun and once you pick them up, really get you involved with the characters and stories, and her characters' thoughts, feelings and actions are so right on that I sometimes wonder if she's been following me around or in my email box or something. But, I guess she's probably too busy for that.

Anyway, in this post she lists  5 Do's and a Do Over. You can click the link to go over there and read it in its entirety, but her basics are this.

1.  Invest in a quality camera and capture lots of random moments. 

2.  Live alone at least once. 

3.  Travel somewhere exotic and unexpected. 

4.  Break a heart and have yours broken. 

5.  Cut bait on toxic friendships. 

I find myself wholeheartedly agreeing with this list, especially #2 which I have preached for many, many years. And #5 which I only had to do for the first time pretty recently. However I have to admit, when I hit number 4? My brain came screeching to a halt. 

I fully admit, like most women my age, I have had my heart broken in the past. There have been a lot of little heartbreaks along the way, such as that of an unrequited crush or a breakup with someone I thought I loved. But only 1 time have I experienced what I consider to be full-blown heartbreak. Starting with the real, true, 100% "I love this guy more than myself and I would give up everything and everyone in my world to keep him in my life and have him all to myself forever, " all the way through to the point where he decided we didn't want the same things or he couldn't be there for me or I was just wanting more than he could give or whatever ridiculous excuse it happened to be.  Then, he reached in, pulled out my heart, tossed it around like a ping pong ball for a few months then stomped it into a million tiny pieces, walking away with a sizable piece of it stuck to the sole of his Chuck Taylors.

So, depending on which part of the lengthy denouement you're talking about, I was 21 or 22 when this all happened. Now, at 43(God that 43 looks so ugly when you type it up like that), happily married to a wonderful guy for almost 17 years, I know that this boy was not the one for me. But at the time, let's face it, it was devastating. I had given him everything I had to give and thought he reciprocated. We both had artist temperaments and were really too much alike. As a result, the relationship was equally passionate and ugly. There was no way we could have lasted long at all. But he broke me. He broke my heart, and he broke me.

For a long time I couldn't even think about dating. Or maybe dating was all I thought about. Only not just one guy. I refused to be in any semblance of a relationship. That heartbreak? It took away my innocence, trust and belief in being able to love and have it returned in like fashion. I became cynical, anti-marriage, and was just out for a good time. This went on for years. I drank (a lot), I did drugs (not a lot but some), I went out to clubs, I met guys. Met them, left them. Yes, I was a party girl back then.

Then, after about four years of this lifestyle a strange thing happened. I (quite randomly) reconnected with someone whom  I had known all along. Since we were, like, 12. I was regularly going out with 2 other guys at the time, and the more I saw of this guy the less I wanted to see them. Finally, it was his game to lose. I still didn't want marriage. I still didn't want commitment. But I wanted him. I was falling in love with him. And he loved me.

No matter how many times I tried to push him away he wouldn't let me. No matter how many excuses I came up with for why we shouldn't be together he wouldn't take them. Though he may not have realized it at the time, he lovingly and patiently put me back together. Piece by piece. As much as you ever can, he helped mend the spot where that chunk was still missing. He taught me that there are people in this world who you can trust with your life. People who will always be honest and caring, even if they don't always do it the right way (according to me). Even if they fail sometimes, their heart is in the right place.

So here I sit, almost 18 years later. Confined by love in a marriage I never thought I would have. Hopefully my days of heartbreak are over. Twenty-some years later that boy found me on FaceBook (isn't it great) and we exchanged a few brief messages. He floored me by expressing the thought that we ended on good terms. And made me wonder: Have I ever broken anyone else's heart? If I did, I certainly didn't know about it at the time. Could I have left someone along the way in such a manner as to cause them the pain that I myself had felt? Gosh, I sure hope not.

What about you? Have you ever knowingly or unknowingly broken someone's heart? And does doing what is best for you without thinking of the other person's feelings constitute intentional heartbreak? I wonder.

NOTE:  Lest every think I believe that love is all sunshine and roses, I don't. Read this post as well. It is tough and it is hard work, in my opinion. Lots and lots of hard work.  What I know.

The End

Today's post is my entry into this week's 100 Word Challenge, hosted by Velvet Verbosity. The 100 Word Challenge is an exercise in which we write exactly 100 words in response to the weekly prompt word. Click the link to read the other entries–good stuff over there! 

This week's prompt was "honor" and the post is based on an actual conversation. Names changed to protect the guilty.

“Can't you see there's no honor in how you're living? No integrity?” I asked, incredulously.

“I have honor. I have integrity. I can't help it if you aren't evolved enough to understand. I don't apologize for that, I don't own that.” she said. “Everyone doesn't get it. That's why I don't go around telling people.”

“I'm not just people, Jane. We've been friends for ten years; you're like a sister to me. Your whole life is a lie. How could you live like this and not tell me?”

“Because I knew you would judge me.”

About Us

Today's post is my entry into this week's 100 Word Challenge, hosted by Velvet Verbosity. The 100 Word Challenge is an exercise in which we write exactly 100 words in response to the weekly prompt word. Click the link to read the other entries–good stuff over there! 
This week's prompt was "wild". 

I am a daughter,  

a wife, 

a friend, 

and artist.

A former wild girl

now confined by love

to a 16 year marriage

to the boy I met 

at thirteen,

married 

at twenty seven,

almost lost 

at thirty two.

Sometimes, alone,

I get lost 

in thoughts

of what could have been, 

what still may be.

But this, I know:

Alone we are unsure,

unsteady,

and claustrophobic.

English and math,

positive and negative.

Alone we are one.

But together 

we are so much more

than two.

Strong and balanced.

Fearless and

unstoppable. 

Impossible 

and improbable.

Ourselves, improved.

Together, we are us.

5,840 Days

5,840 days, 16 years since I decided that I would spend the remainder of my life with my hubs.

To have and to hold.

For Better : The vacations in Jamaica, San Francisco, Colorado, NYC, DC, and so many other places. All the Friday date nights, concerts, fireworks, my graduation.  Best of all, the day we got the call about moving home to KY.

Or Worse: Hubs almost dying in a plane crash in 2000, the deaths of all his grandparents, and most of all his father, living and dealing with my depression, the early years when we spent so much time away from each other, and the move to PA.

For Richer: Though never "rich" there have been easy times when we had a very comfortable savings account, all our bills paid, owned a home and had our vehicles paid for. Those were the days.


Or Poorer: When we first married, times were really tough and the budget was tight. Somehow we always got through it OK. When we needed money for something, it always came from somewhere-one of us would get a raise or a bonus or something. In fact, it's kinda like that now thanks to this crappy economy and selling 2 homes within the last 18 months. Oh, yeah, and me being in school for 2 years and not working. But I know we'll make it just fine.

In Sickness: See worse, above, 18 month recovery from plane crash, miscellaneous surgeries, my 2 years suffering with depression and being a total shrew, migraines, ankle pains, and general old age.


and In Health: From reading the above this is apparently the other maybe... 10 days out of the year.


To Love: I loved him since I was 12. It just took him until we were 25 to figure it out.

and to Cherish: (assuming the definition of care and affection) We only touch each other out of love, never anger, and we do not hesitate to show affection around others. But not in that weird, creepy, annoying throw-up-in-my-mouth-a-little way, of course.

Forsaking All Others: So far, so good. We have ultimate trust in one another.


Until Death Parts Us: We've defied this once, but we'll see. If he's made it through this far, I've got him hooked for good.


And then, there's tonight while watching Survivor. Me: I didn't remember her getting kicked off last week. Why did I think it was Rupert? Hubs: Crack? 


Thanks, Honey, I love you too! That death parting thing? Yeah, it just got one step closer.


Happy Anniversary, Pookie! Here's to another 16 years sleeping with the same man!