This morning, as we took our slow walk around the neighborhood, Ken mentioned that he thinks he can make it to our anniversary later this week. He has been a warrior for ten years in a battle with Parkinson’s, a movement disorder that takes his mobility away piece by piece. He is doing a heroic job of staving off the predicted progression, or should I say regression, of the disorder. We celebrate each and every milestone.
This week will be our 122nd anniversary. Yes. We have had 121 anniversaries so far. We were married sixty-one years ago – twice. Our first marriage, in January, was an elopement before Ken left for spring training in Lakeland, Florida, as a Detroit Tiger rookie. Then, eight months later, in September, when he returned from the baseball season, we were married in church with friends and family as witnesses. We have celebrated twice a year since; thus, it will be our 122nd anniversary. We kept our first wedding a secret until twenty years ago, and that’s another story.
Of course, we went through years of thick and thin, bounty and scarcity, as all long-term relationships do. We raised three kids and countless pets. We were on the brink of divorce at one point, separated for several months. The divorce was unsuccessful; we stayed married another forty-eight years (96 anniversaries) so far.
Chocolate cake with butter cream frosting and peanut butter roses
When first married, we lived simply. I remember peanut butter sandwiches (no jelly) were my lunches at work, sometimes they were dinner too. We lived in apartments in Washington, Florida, and California. Between baseball seasons, we took whatever jobs we could find. Minor league baseball players were only paid during the season, and it was a minimal wage not meant to get one through a year until the next season.
One apartment had a bedroom so small that only a twin-size bed fit. We both slept in that bed, me in the crack next to the wall. Ken was a 200 lb., six-foot-one strapping young fella whose feet hung over the end. He barely fit the bed at all, but we couldn’t imagine sleeping separately. At one time, we lived in a trailer in Florida that had been modified to add bathroom fixtures with a toilet in the living room and a shower in the kitchen. Oh, well – young love doesn’t make note of such inconveniences. We were happy to be together.
In 1966, we would walk with our new baby in a stroller down the hill into town from our suburban apartment to spend $.50 for two ice cream cones. It was an extravagance. We couldn’t drive to town because we couldn’t afford to use the gas in the car that Ken needed to go to work. At that time, gasoline cost less than $.50/gallon. Our two cones were the price of a whole gallon of gas. (Today, gas costs around $3.00/gal, and so does just one ice cream cone – inflation?)
We continued in the American dream to acquire a house with a mortgage and two cars – actually moving in the same city five times. Over the years, the houses became bigger and the cars nicer. Our kids thrived through school and sports, left home for college and lives of their own, and we became empty nesters. During those years, we lived in Bellevue, Washington.
Ken had a career in the home building industry, and after the kids were all in school, I took jobs doing admin work in a variety of companies, including our own. My jobs were mostly time fillers with no career aspirations – a way to make extra money for fun stuff.
One year, we left our jobs, sold our house and furniture, took our kids out of school, and went on a road trip through forty-eight states as well as a few provinces of Canada and Mexican states near the border of the United States. A challenge full of memories I wouldn’t trade for any amount of money.
We had friends, threw great parties, traveled extensively, and did everything we wanted to do. We had a sailboat and cruised the waters and islands of the Pacific Northwest alone together and with friends. We led a very privileged life and still do, but in a more modest way. We are back to simplicity, not quite the peanut butter lunches variety. We moved to Arizona nearly thirty years ago. Our lives are circumscribed by age and lesser abilities, but still full of friends and family. We have an abundance of gratitude for the abundance of our memories and each day we are given.
Happy One-Hundred-Twenty-Second Anniversary, Ken. I love you.
The secret sauce of a long marriage is the memories that connect two hearts and minds. Such is the case when Ken and I watched a TV show last evening. We mostly watch British TV because we find the stories and series more interesting. Less about shoot-em-ups and car chases – more about relationship building among characters and good writing. BBC, Acorn, and BritBox are our go-to platforms. Ken mentioned that we don’t have to visit England because it is in our home every day. It feels so familiar.
The title of one episode in the series, Professor T., was A Fish Named Walter. When the name came up on the TV, we looked at each other and started laughing. Not because it is a funny name, which it is, but because it relates to a dog who once upon a time adopted us. Is that a stretch? Not really. This is the story.
In 1982, we went to see the movie On Golden Pond. Norman Thayer, played by Henry Fonda, fished the pond near their summer home in search of the large fish he named Walter, that evaded being caught by him for years. One summer, he took a young boy, Billy, with him fishing, and they finally caught Walter. Norman insisted they throw him back.
The day after we saw the movie, we took a walk to our Medina neighborhood park and were talking about the film as we walked around its shallow pond. Engrossed in conversation, we were surprised when a small golden retriever popped up from the middle of the pond, swam toward us, shook itself off, and followed us around the path. We hadn’t seen the dog enter the pond, just pop up and swim out of it. We looked at each other and, laughing, said, “That must be Walter.”
We tried to discourage the dog, thinking it must belong to someone near the park, but it followed us all the way home. It didn’t have an identity tag or collar, so we couldn’t contact an owner. At that time, we had a six-year-old black lab, Quincey, but decided to allow the dog to stay with us, half expecting it would return to its home. Quincey and the new dog managed a friendly connection.
We continued to call her Walter even after we realized she was a she. Her name probably should have been Zsa Zsa or Marilyn. She was a stereotypical ditsy blonde, sweet and friendly, with soft brown eyes, golden locks, and a constant wag. The vet said she was a mature two or three-year-old mixed breed, mostly retriever, with no evidence of abuse or starvation, and she had been spayed. Someone had taken care of her. She had good manners. She didn’t jump on people, bark, or bite. She was house-trained. Our three kids instantly loved her, and she returned their affection.
She hung around the house, never leaving the yard, for weeks. Our yard wasn’t fenced. Our lab never left the property, and Walter seemed to like being there. We thought that if she had another home, she would eventually go back to it. After a couple of months, I bought a collar for her with a tag that read,’ Hi I’m Walter. If I am lost, please call Diana or Ken at 744-3374′.
Walter began to explore the neighborhood, always returning by dinnertime. I received calls occasionally from nearby people and some as far away as two miles, asking me to pick up our Walter. They usually had a chuckle in their voice when they said her name. We were trying to figure out how to keep her home. Our property was fairly large, and we didn’t like the idea of a fence, but we thought about making a dog run.
One Saturday afternoon, as I was getting ready for a party we were hosting, I received a call from a neighbor who lived around the corner. “Come get Walter,” she said. “She was hit by a car.” Ken went to pick her up to take her to the vet, but she had died. The end of our sweet Walter.
A sad story, but one that nonetheless makes us smile. Walter adopted us, lived with us, and loved us for a little over a year, until her wanderlust took her into danger.
As it happens, we watched On Golden Pond for the second time on TV just a few weeks ago. Seeing the title of the Britbox series’ episode made it all fresh in our minds. It was an emotional movie that had a very different meaning for us as 80-year-olds than it did as 30-somethings. We are both older now than the actors were when they played the old couple. Katharine Hepburn was 75 and Henry Fonda, 77.
What is marriage? It is secret music heard by only two people. What keeps a couple together? Children, common beliefs, love, lust, that indefinable something? Two people sing their song together with a repetitive chorus that they both know by heart. Their song is sometimes in harmony, sometimes not. This story is not taken from real life …but it could be.
“Do you want toast or English muffins with our omelet?” Lila asked. She and Winston were sitting on their front patio, he with the Daily Star and coffee, she with her Sunday mimosa. Actually, it was her second. They watched the sun spill its radiance over the mountaintop like a bright scroll unfurling down toward the valley. This summer morning was slightly cooler than usual, but the heat was beginning to build. “What?” Winston leaned toward her cocking his head. “Do you prefer an English muffin or toast?” Lila spoke sharply louder. “Don’t yell at me, just don’t mumble. I’ll have whatever you are having.” Lila shrugged and muttered, “English muffin.” “What?” “I’ll fix us both an English muffin. It’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes. Do you want to eat outside on the back patio or in the kitchen?” She faced him, carefully enunciating each word. “Are Jen and Mike coming over this today?” “Yes. Jennifer said something about bringing the kids to swim around three. We’ll eat breakfast out back. The day’s starting so beautifully. I want to enjoy it as much as we can before it heats up. I’ll set the table out there.” “Are they staying for dinner?” “I didn’t ask.” She turned and walked into the house. “What?”
Lila went into the kitchen to cook the omelet. Winston folded his paper, picked up his cup, and followed her into the house. Bowl, pan, eggs, salt, pepper, butter, cheese, green onion, muffins, Lila began to prepare breakfast.
“Wanna watch the CBS Sunday Show?” he asked. Lila split the English muffins and put them in the toaster oven. “Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes. It’s DVR’d, so let’s wait until after breakfast. Take some silverware and napkins out back to the table and I’ll bring the water.” Lila made sure he was looking directly at her as she spoke. “Oh, we’re eating outside this morning?”
Lila nodded whisking the eggs until fluffy and adding a wee bit of sour cream. Winston dampened a washcloth and went out the sliding glass door to the back patio to wipe off the table. Birds were chirping in the trees, a mixed choir. He returned to get the silverware and napkins, giving Lila a peck on the back of her neck as he passed her in the kitchen.
“Who loves ya, baby? he said with a wink. Then, “Beautiful morning.” “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” “So are the kids staying for dinner?” “No, I think they’ll just be here for an hour or so.” “I could barbecue.” “I’d rather not have the commotion this evening. Let’s just have a quiet day, just us two.” “But you said they were coming to swim this afternoon.” “Only for an hour or so.” “Do you want to go to a movie?” “Not especially. I want to enjoy a quiet day, maybe read, a little nap. You know …a lazy Sunday.” “What?” “I said no, not especially.” “I miss those kids. We haven’t seen them for a couple of weeks. We used to see them every weekend and even during the week.” “They’re growing up. Jen and Mike have their hands full getting them to all their activities. Grandma and Grandpa don’t fit into their schedules as much as we used to. You remember what our lives were like with three active kids at home. It’s hectic.” “Well, I remember seeing my folks and your folks every weekend.” “It may have seemed like it to you, but we were lucky to see them once a month except at soccer or basketball games.”
“Maybe they’re spending time with Jen’s parents,” he said. “Maybe.” “Did we do something to tick them off?” “Win, there is nothing wrong with our relationship with Jen, Mike, and their kids. They’re just busy. “I miss them.” “I know.” She added, “You need to get a hobby.” “What about Bobby?” “I said you need a hobby.” “Bobby is such a good little golfer. Maybe I could take him out on Saturdays and give him some tips.” “Mike is doing a good job, just like you did with him.”
After breakfast and the obligatory Sunday news program, Lila started the weekly laundry. Then she sat in her favorite cane-backed rocking chair to read. Winston turned to the Golf Channel with the sound off to watch the final round of a tournament he had followed since Thursday. He dozed in his recliner.
Later, Lila pulled out the pool toys from the backyard shed. Winston took the cover off the pool, checked the pH levels, and swept off the patio. A little after three o’clock Mike’s family drove up and the cacophony of a nine, seven, and five-year-old broke into the Sunday quiet. They moved quickly through the house to the backyard tossing beach towels onto the chaise as they passed.
“Say hi to grandma and grandpa kids,” Jennifer hollered. “Hi Grandma, hi Grandpa,” came the chorus of cherubs as they swirled, swiveled, and flew into the pool.
Jennifer shook her head and gave Lila a hug. Mike and Winston took patio chairs into the shade to watch the mini-Olympic challenges as they developed. Carla, being the oldest, was of course the director. Bobby and Kyle followed her lead lining up on the edge and diving to swim helter-skelter toward the opposite end of the pool.
“How has the week been?” Lila asked Jennifer as she got the iced tea and lemonade out of the refrigerator. “Oh, you know the typical mad dash from event to event, friend to friend. I swear, I’ll be glad when school starts again and we can have a routine that doesn’t involve six hours a day in the car.” Jennifer got glasses and napkins and put them on the big tray. “Well, you know we can help out. If you guys need an extra set of wheels, we’d be happy to take one of them to a something, whatever.” “I know you would and often I think of it but most things are so spur of the moment I hate to call. Maybe we can ask you to take one of them to lessons. They have tennis, swimming, and horseback riding. I’ll talk to Mike about it. It would be a big relief to have at least one of the bases covered.” “Who has what? Doesn’t Carla have horseback riding?” “Yeah, and swimming but not on the same day that Bobby and Kyle have it. Bobby and Kyle take lessons together on Thursday morning. Carla has horseback riding on Thursday morning and swimming on Tuesday morning. Both Carla and Bobby have tennis on Monday morning. I usually take Kyle to the park while they have lessons. And interspersed with all that is friend time. I’m either dropping one of them off at a friend or picking a friend up for the day. It really does get crazy. I know that Mike is very sensitive about getting you guys involved in the whole thing so I’ll talk to him first.” “Why?” “Honestly?” Jennifer stopped and put down the tray, turning to face Lila, “He may be mad at me for saying this but I think honesty is the best way to deal with it.”
Lila perched on a seat at the kitchen counter bar. “What’s up?”
“Mike is concerned about Dad’s hearing and he thinks he is a bit unsteady driving. He knows how much Dad doesn’t like to be told he can’t hear and he sure as heck doesn’t want to bring up driving skills with him so he just said he doesn’t want the kids to be in the car with him driving.”
The air sighed out of Lila’s lungs. She knew it was just a matter of time before this conversation would happen. She remembered having the same talk with her mother about her dad when his driving became questionable.
“Jen, you know we wouldn’t put the kids in danger. Ever.” “I know you wouldn’t purposely do it but it has crept up so slowly we didn’t think you noticed.” “Oh I’ve noticed but I guess I haven’t really made….” “I know, I know. It’s hard. If you would promise to do the driving, I think Mike would be okay with it. He’s just really worried about Dad. The hearing thing, you know. He misses half of what is said to him and that could cause a problem with directions or instructions for taking the kids somewhere.” “We finally have an appointment with the audiologist. He agreed to go because I said I was having trouble hearing. He set up an appointment for both of us to have a checkup. I’ll talk to Win but I may need Mike to man up and back me up. If he says something I think Winston will pay more attention.” “My dad stopped driving completely and mom only goes back and forth a few blocks to buy groceries once a week. I’ve been running errands and taking them to an appointment here and there but I just don’t have the time to do it all the time. We found a car service that will pick them up and take them to some things. They’re ten years older than you guys and they don’t get around like they used to. For fifteen to twenty dollars they can get most anyplace they need to go and back home. It’s a small price to pay for their safety. And they only use it a couple of times a month. There is even a free public bus service for seniors, if you don’t have to go at a set time.” “Good to know but we’re not there yet.” “Of course not. I’m just saying there is help when the time comes.” “Too bad it’s not for transporting active kids all over tarnation,” Lila quipped. “I like to go to their lessons and stay to watch but sometimes it’s just too much and I take that time to run errands so I don’t have to drag them with me. Mike helps when he can in the evenings especially after school starts but on summer days it’s mostly me.”
“Hey, where are the drinks?” Mike shouted from the patio. “We’re coming. Hold your shirt,” Jennifer shouted back, then turned to Lila. “I’ll talk with Mike tonight, and we’ll all talk later, okay?” “Yeah, thanks for your honesty, honey. You’ve given me something to think about. I’ll talk to Winston too.”
wonkagranny 