Fifty years ago today, I married the man with whom I’m traveling through life. Dan and I met on the cusp of adulthood, a tender 21, and for decades—through the births of children and grandchildren, multiple careers, dogs and cities–we have done our best to figure life out together. So far, so good.
People often ask us what is the secret to a long, happy marriage? Maybe it’s something as simple as having short-term memory—like when I apologize to Dan for something, and he replies “Did something happen? I don’t remember.” It’s this alchemy of grace and humor, a generosity of spirit that converts pain to joy and marriage into a sacrament.
After fifty years, there are few secrets left. Despite all our individuating, at times I have to remind myself that he is a separate person—not that I have an arm, a leg and a Dan. Of course, we don’t always agree on things. But decades ago, we figured out where each of us stands: our arguments and counter-arguments, the compromises that will be made, apologies rendered and the conciliatory hug. So now, we don’t bother with all the back and forth but rather say “Okay, so this is Argument A. Let’s just skip to the end.” We hug and it’s over.
I believe the secret to a long, happy marriage is pretty much the same as the secret to living a happy life—an irrepressible on-going commitment to never giving up. Only in the context of marriage, you’re not doing it alone. You’ve tethered your spirit to a soul mate which makes things both doubly blessed and challenging. We grow through the good times, when we reap the results of good decisions and good fortune. We support each others’ passions, taking genuine joy in each others’ interests, friends and pursuits. We share our affection for our children and now our grandchildren, and for both old and new family and friends. We have fun.
But life can also sometimes be a messy affair and nobody is more disappointed than the loving spouse to discover when one is powerless to make things turn out for even those we love most. Neither do we get everything for which we’d hoped. But if the marriage is to deepen, when things are disappointing, we do not run—we come closer, discovering that it can be commitment enough just to be the one the other can count on to kiss our bruised knees when we fall.
Along the way, through sickness and through health, through good times and bad, we have learned a lot about courage, forgiveness, respect and freedom. About giving and receiving and most of all about what it means to love unconditionally. Little of this was what I’d expected. None of it would I give back.
So Happy Anniversary, Dear Dan. You’re the one I choose to share my life with. The one I turn to when I need to figure things out. The one who keeps me endlessly entertained. I wish you loved sushi a little more and pizza a little less, but I never tire of your hugs and never doubt you don’t want the best for me. I’m glad you sleep in so I can meditate in the morning, and I’m glad you stay up late so I don’t have to watch endless Swedish detective mysteries. I love that you have given our life together a soundtrack, and you are not only a wonderful editor for my writing, but a crackerjack IT guy. (“Just unplug it then plug it in again.”) You are wise and funny and strong and patient and generous and kind and the best thing that ever happened to me.
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