The best decision I ever made

Along with school opening and all that is happening in the world, September is a memorable month for Larry and me. 

Fifty years ago on Sept. 8, 1974, Larry and I got married in Upstate New York. For those who have been reading my column for a while, you may remember many of the stories. We met at a Purim (not "porn" as some people misheard!) party held by the Jewish singles in Albany, New York. It was love at first sight, and we got engaged six months later. Our wedding was held on a relatively hot September afternoon, the week after Labor Day to accommodate Larry's parents' store's school opening weekend and at two p.m. held to accommodate Hebrew school hours. Despite the fact that the rabbi barely knew us, he gave a very long talk, of which we remember nothing. The reception was provided by the Sisterhood, who served chicken, peas (Larry hates peas!), and un-Kosher wine provided by my mother whose label was covered with aluminum foil. The band forgot the words to our first dance ("He Touched Me," by Barbra Streisand. On reflection, it was a dumb choice. If we got married today, Larry and I would choose "Moon River.") My father got a little tipsy (totally out of character) and thanked Keeseville National Bank for the loan that paid for the wedding. 

If the wedding and reception was not perfect, our honeymoon was a disaster. Twelve hours into our stay in Quebec City, Larry woke up in agonizing pain from what was later diagnosed as a kidney stone. The next morning, I drove Larry to a hospital and drove myself to a $9 a night rooming house across the street. Three days later, newly relieved of his stone through surgery, Larry sat in the passenger seat while I started the drive back to my parent's home on Lake Champlain. Mistaking the Canadian kilometer per hour speed limit for the United States miles per hour speed limit, I hit 90. Larry told me to pull over, and he would drive. When we arrived three days early at my parents' cottage on Lake Champlain, they initially thought the marriage had already tanked. (Fifty years later, despite the fact that I am an excellent driver, I still defer to Larry to drive when we are in the car together.)

Thus began the "getting to know you" stage of our marriage. In that first year, a co-worker of Larry's noticed that my usually slow-to-anger husband was banging drawers and mumbling expletives under his breath. "What IS your problem?" Helen asked.  "Never get married!" Larry shouted. "She leaves her shoes in the middle of the room," he steamed. "When I got up to go to the bathroom, I tripped over them."

A half a century later, we have learned to accept each other's quirks. Larry is a terrible backseat driver; I leave cabinet doors open, lights on, and discarded shoes all over the house. Larry is quiet and private; I am talkative and too forthcoming. Larry thinks often in mathematics and statistics; I am more focused on the written word. Case in point: Larry thought our 49th anniversary was more exciting because 49 has a square root; I had to use this column to share an essay on our 50th.) In the glow that surrounds our memorable anniversary, I could come up with a handful of things about Larry that bother me. Larry came up with fewer. 

When my parents celebrated their 50th anniversary, we had a huge party at our home in Clifton Park. The four children and their spouses had chipped in to give Mom and Dad their first ever and only cruise. I will never forget the joy and amazement when they opened up the envelope with the voucher.

I now know that 50 years has flown by in a flash, a blur, a nano-second. We have a lifetime of memories and experiences and ups and downs and ins and outs. We have enjoyed working in career fields we loved, raising two children, watching them grow, spread their wings and fly onto new adventures; sharing friendships; and sharing close family ties only enhanced most recently by mishpachah (extended family) and three grandchildren.

Despite the speed the last half century has sped by, I will not trade one moment of our lives together for anything else. Larry is my best friend, my soul mate, my companion, the wonderful father of my children and the amazing Zayde of our grandchildren. For his 75th birthday, I wrote a list of the same number of things I love about him. In the past year, I've added several more. 

How will we celebrate? Our children gave us a weekend at a beautiful bed and breakfast. Later this fall  we will be taking a trip to Italy. But most importantly, I will never ever lose sight of the fact that marrying my Larry was the best decision I ever made. And thankfully, he feels the same way about marrying me.