How We Achieved Forty Years of Marriage

See addenda below! When people ask: "To what do you attribute your long marriage?" I usually answer "Inertia". There is more truth to that than might initially meet the eye, but it is only one of the reasons.

Firstly, when you agree to wed, you must believe that you are marrying a friend, with whom you can not only tolerate spending the rest of your life, but with whom you will be contented. Most of us 'think' that at the time, but a firm belief is required, in my opinion, which suggests that you have really thought about it before deciding to accept the proposal. It is desirable to have ideals in common, as well as similar thoughts on how to conduct your finances, religious preferences and raising your children. One should talk about these things beforehand.

Secondly, you must be dedicated to staying married. If your idea of marriage is "Oh, well, if it doesn't work out - we'll just get a divorce", then your future will surely hold that as a prospect, if not a fact. A firm resolve to make it work is to be desired above all.

Thirdly, compromise is the watchword for a successful relationship (marriage or otherwise). If one of you is so self-centered as to insist on always having things your way, the relationship is doomed to failure, or to a hellish existence if you stay together. (I can hear my husband laughing as he reads that - assuming I let him!). Remember that a marriage is seldom a 50-50 proposition. It is often 90-10, or 30-70, and the larger number will not always be on your side. Learn to live with that.

Fourthly, a sense of humor is a necessity, as is a willingness to say "I am sorry" and show that you mean it.

The caveat: All of the above flies out the window if you are being verbally or phyically abused. No one should stay in a relationship where there is not a true spirit of love, respect and compassion for the other person. Try counselling, or anger management if need be, but do not allow yourself to feel trapped in a marriage where you are not respected. If you have any idea that you have made a mistake in your choice of spouse, do not bring a child into the world expecting that to magically solve all your troubles, for it will only compound them.

I am no expert (again my husband is laughing!), but these are ideas that have worked for us. My husband and I were fortunate to be the children of parents who also stayed married a long time, and that certainly works in our favor.

An additional note: Do not let this lead you to thinking it was all a bed of roses; I can assure you it was anything but! We had hard times, slammed doors, shouting matches (which happen nowadays too) and there were periods when due either to his work travel or a shared intractability, we hardly spoke to each other. But the initial vows we made were not forgotten, and we were still committed to each other and to the marriage.

I neglected to tell you one of the more interesting aspects ofit all: we met in January of 1964 and married in early July of 1964. We hardly knew each other, really. I don't recommend that you marry so swiftly, but since I did, I can hardly set up parameters for you, can I?

Mothballs and Throw Rugs - The Mark of a Retiree?

I found this site recently www.bitterwaitress.com and sent it to a friend whom I knew would enjoy the humor in it. Here is his slightly edited response to me:

"I am saving this site. I know that retirees (not ME of course) are the cheapest of the cheapskates in tipping. They go for the earlybird dinner specials, leave two quarters, and walk out with toothpicks dangling from their thin-lipped mouths. Awaiting them in the parking lot is their four door white retiree car with mud flaps, AAA stickers, and a nylon meshwad on the radio antenna. Most are from (I have erased the name of the state, so as to avoid their slings and arrows) the "moonpie face" state. For some reason most of them are fat and pale. They all wear old fashioned glasses, live in a condo, trailer, etc. and have a multicolored hand-knitted throw on the couch. Lampshades are encased in plastic. Throw rugs are everywhere. The bathroom has enough fluff crap on the toilet and floor to harbor every fatal disease known to mankind. Oh, I forgot the biggest sin of all: MOTHBALLS!"

Does this funny guy have the old folks pegged, or what?

I must admit, however, that I have been to homes where the lampshades AND the couches are encased in plastic, the bathrooms are covered in fuzzy chenille stuff with crocheted toilet paper covers, and every article of clothing they wear reeks of mothballs. The trouble is, some of these people aren't even old yet. Part of it is the cultural context they grew up with (old habits die hard, I've heard).

My Mom was the throw rug queen of our state. Every floor had carpet, and every carpet had throw rugs following the traffic paths. Sometimes, she laid plastic runners over the carpet and throw rugs. It was a tripping hazard, so I finally convinced her she had to remove all the rugs before she or my dad fell. She thought she was "saving" the carpet from spots, but I am sorry to report that the carpet was still stained and spotted anyway, and she just threw more rugs over the spots. An odd side note to this is that my mom took up rug hooking in her middle years. She made 5 rugs, none of which ever saw the light of day while she lived. She didn't want her rugs to get dirty or worn, so she rolled them up and stored them in a cabinet. What is the irony in that?! They are beautiful and I can assure you that they are used and loved in my home.

An uncle and aunt of my husband's, who lived in NYC, had couches with heavy plastic slipcovers on them (with zippers yet!). It was like sitting down on a hot plastic table cloth at a picnic. They thought the plastic was wonderful, since their white damask couches were just as pristine as the day they were delivered. There's no telling how much 'back of the leg' skin was sacrificed to that plastic over the years!

I can remember homes that had so much stuff in the bathrooms: fuzzy chenille rugs, toilet covers, seat covers, lid covers, etc. Why don't people realize how much of a health hazard that is? If no one ever missed a toilet bowl, it would be fine. But since we all know that one of the two sexes seldom hits the bowl, the less fabric near it - the better!

Lastly, I will say that mothballs ought to be outlawed - or at least - made to smell better than they do. We sometimes eat at a local cafeteria (but not the earlybird specials). It is not too bad in the spring and summer, but when cool weather rolls around, and the winter coats come out of storage, you cannot stand in line there without being totally overcome with the fumes from moth balls. Give it a break, people. Moths have to eat too!

The Twenty-Minute Wedding

I was inspired by a recent post at Open Book http://chapternext.typepad.com/openbook
to write about my wedding day, July 2, 1964. Would you believe that I worked at the hospital from 9 am to noon on the day I got married? Well, I did. And when I left work, I went to the hair salon to get a "shampoo and set", as it was called back in the day. The ceremony was to be at 6 pm, at the Norfolk Naval Base Catholic Chapel, and my Matron of Honor came to drive me to the church about 5 pm. I was dressed in a white lace chemise dress, which I sewed on my 1940 Singer sewing machine. I also made my pill box hat (a la Jackie Kennedy); covered in matching lace and dotted with seed pearls and a short veil. White peau de soie heels completed the outfit, along with tear-drop pearl earrings. I carried a white prayer book, on which sat a bouquet of blue hydrangeas and coral tea roses, also made by me, and cut from my landlady's yard.

For reasons I won't go into now, none of our parents attended the ceremony. It was planned that way. Suffice it to say, I am now sorry for that decision. My landlady's husband, a very good friend, walked me down the aisle, and our landlady gave a reception for us in her back yard, complete with wedding cake (home made and yummy) and booze.

During the ceremony, I had an out-of-body experience, sort of. I felt as though I was in the balcony, watching the ceremony take place. It was weird, since I was on the altar - and seemed to be watching myself on the altar. The same thing happened to me when I was four, and having my tonsils removed. But I had a good excuse then - I was sedated.

The only other thing I remember from the ceremony, was looking over at my fiancee and seeing a small green bug crawling up his neck. I flicked it off - and he didn't know why I had flicked his neck - but he didn't make a big deal of it, thankfully. There were about 9 people at the wedding, including the Priest. A friend of my fiance offered to be our photographer, and we accepted that offer, much to our later chagrin. We have only a few pics from that day. He was amateur to the maxx, unfortunately.

We all went to my landlady's house for the reception, which was really very nice. Another friend of my husband's had offered to drive us to our honeymoon destination - Virginia Beach. We could go no farther than that, as we both had to be back at work in 4 days. Our chauffeur was a poor driver - and he had been drinking - and we almost "bought the farm"(sorry Angie) before the honeymoon started. We came so close to having a major car wreck that we were both emotional wrecks! The rest of the honeymoon was wonderful, though, unless you count the next morning at breakfast, when 2 girls my hubby had known in college approached our table - not knowing we were honeymooning - and just oozed their exuberance at finding him! I dispatched them immediately, as you might imagine.

The next night, we attended a dinner theater performance of "Carousel". It was the first time I had seen a play live, so I was enthralled. Just today, my husband noted that there is to be a performance of "Carousel" by our local theatre group and offered that we go in honor of our anniversary this summer. I think I upset him when I declined the opportunity; I never did like "Carousel" much.

After 4 days, we returned to Norfolk on a Greyhound bus, and started what has turned out to be a 41 year odyssey together. I wouldn't have it any other way!

The Best Photos on the Web.........

The best photos on the web can be found at http://rickleephoto.blogspot.com . Do yourselves a favor and check it out.

What's Your Guilty Pleasure?

Dr. Joy Browne asked an interesting question on her show this week: "What's your guilty pleasure?". I had to think about that one for a while. I have few vices since I quit smoking; one being the nightly cold beer I have before bedtime. Another might be the almost daily chicken filet biscuit from Bojangles, dripping with down-home goodness (also known as fat). Once in a while I feel guilty for eating them, when it dawns on me that I may be cutting my life expectancy short a few years. But I only allow myself their French fries once a week (or maybe twice), so I guess it could be worse.

My husband has a nice habit; occasionally he will buy a large candy bar, eat half and proffer the rest to me. He's nice that way. I, on the other hand, will buy one (intending to do the same) and eat it all! So that's my guiltiest pleasure................What's yours?

Whistle While you Work!

I've been rolling a few ideas around in my head to blog about. Weary Hag, at http://thecerebraloutpost.blogspot.com posted about her resume recently. She has had more jobs than I could even think about having, but I have decided to recite mine, in the interest of posting something new.

Other than babysitting, the first real job I can remember was selling hot dogs at lunchtime in a place across the street from my high school. I only did it to make cigarette money. Of course, back then cigs were about 25 cents per pack, so I could work an hour and have enough for 2-3 packs. When I was in NYC, I heard someone ask a clerk how much a carton of cigarettes was, and he replied $85. I almost lost my teeth on that one! Thank God I quit smoking many years ago, because I sure couldn't afford the habit now! At 2 packs a day, I'd be in the poor house in about a week.

The second job was working in a florist shop owned by friends of my Mom and Dad. I started out sweeping the floors and dusting the stock, but ended up doing everything but funeral flowers (too depressing anyway). I remember many a holiday having to work 18-22 hours, making corsages. Back then, everyone wore a corsage to church on Easter and Mother's Day - and almost everyone went to church. My fingers looked like chopped liver after 18 hours of making corsages, but it was fun nonetheless. I worked there off and on all through college.

The next job grew out of becoming a member of the local department store's "College Board" as it was called back then. A group of 15-20 college-bound girls were hired to work in the store the summer after graduation, and the purpose was supposed to be helping girls and their mothers decide what to buy for college. What a laugh! My purpose was spending my paycheck in the ladies department and getting the largest discount I could muster! I ended up gift wrapping and also I was a personal shopper for that store one Christmas season. I have written about that previously. At the end of the summer, just before college, we participated in a style show of all the latest "college fashions", but I hornswoggled them into letting me wear a French blue chiffon number with dyed ostrich feathers around the hem and neck. No college girl I ever knew would wear (or could afford) that dress. It would have looked wonderful on Audrey Hepburn in "Breakfast at Tiffany's". That job led to modeling; I would walk around the store dressed to the "nines" and wearing hats, and carrying a small sign telling where they could be found. I modeled hats for a newpaper article and several independent style shows.

Next I took a break from college between my junior and senior years, and worked at the local telephone company. Trying to convince my Mom and Dad that I only needed a break, while promising to return to college soon was not easy. She finally agreed to let me quit school (she had no choice, really). I delivered all the mail to the executives on seven floors of the telephone company building. It was sort of boring, but I felt important being responsible for all that mail. After 9 months, it had become a horrible drudgery, and I couldn't wait to get out of there and go back to college!

In the second semester of my senior year, I realized I had no job prospects and no career on the horizon. A degree in English didn't do much for you without higher education; I didn't want to teach and I had no interest in Journalism. One of my friends was in school to learn how to read Pap smears, in a new science called Cytotechnology. The government was paying a stipend to anyone who would take the classes, and that sold me! I got $125 per month, plus I lived at home and had no expenses. $125 is ludicrous nowadays, but back then it was almost a living wage, especially if your parents still supported you. After that school, I got a job in a hospital in Norfolk, Va. I worked there for a year or two, got married, had a kid and quit working to stay home with him. I went back to work after 11 months, because they needed someone to finish out the school year for their students, but when my son called his babysitter "Momma", I quit, and I didn't work again for 15 years, except for volunteering in the schools, which I did a heck of a lot of while my kids were there.

In 1982, I started my business (Tickle Your Fancy), doing flowers for weddings and parties. It is a wonderful thing to love what you do so much that you are anxious to get to work every day. I know my work life has not been as varied or as interesting as Weary Hag's - or like yours - for example, but perhaps you have done something you would like to tell about. If you do, let me know so I can read it.