This week marks 47 years. It was 1976, the year of America’s Bicentennial. The day was overcast, but the event was a bright light in my life.
Don’t worry. I’m about to tell you about my marriage, but I promise to keep it low key. I am not prone to public displays of affection, nor syrupy phrasing of love and dedication. I try to refrain from the trite and the tired. I will not be saying that she is my best friend, or that ours is a match made in heaven.
I refuse to use the common (among manly men) football metaphor of having outkicked my coverage in reference to my marriage.
I won’t be telling you that we sit each morning, coffee cup in hand, staring longingly into the eyes of the other, speaking platitudes of love. Sometimes we just look out the window. You know, at the birds and the flowers. We have many books on the shelves that speak to the wonder of love and its attendant bliss. Mostly, those books remain closed. The words preserved there, seldom seeing the light. She might be thinking of the book she would like to get back to reading, or her upcoming gathering of friends or family. Me, it might be the great six-iron I hit into No. 3 green yesterday, or the podcast I heard last night. We both value our independence. We could not do it any other way.
I’m not going to say that she is beautiful both inside and out. She is, of course, but you won’t hear me embarrass myself by talking that way. No sports similes, even though our meeting was like a deflected pass of a basketball landing my hands that I layed in for the winning score and adulation. She has more friends than Carters has liver pills, but I hate that kind of talk. She is often sought out by former students anxious to tell her how she impacted their lives. Now that, I don’t mind telling you, is real. Her grandkids glow in her presence. They think I am just her driver, the one who delivers the prized package, and then stays for dinner. Watching her with the grandchildren is truly one of the great pleasures in life. It’s like … No. I said I would not do that simile thing.
She has affected my life in so many positive ways. Not that I was on the road to perdition, but most certainly I was searching for something when I stubbed my toe on a gemstone.
As young 20-somethings, we are loathe to consider the distant future. We can’t get our minds around the scope of it all. Nothing is guaranteed. Difficult times are always on the horizon, but living successfully requires us to focus on today. So it is in marriage. It’s love combined with dogged commitment and willingness to forgive that makes for a successful union. And good luck. Don’t forget about luck.
I must tell you though that yes, she seems nice, but she has a dark side. She hides my shoes. She regularly loses one of my socks with each laundry cycle, then magically makes it reappear the next. The odds of this happening each week for 47 years suggests there is nefarious intent on her part. And finally, she tells me one lie with Trumpian regularity: “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”
Here’s the thing: A year or so ago I noticed a slight tremor in my left hand. I had imagined it was unnoticed by others. Not so. The doctor says it might be just that, a slight, yet noticeable shaking. I heard the “might be.” I hate it, but I understand it is, but a slight bother compared to what health issues so many others experience. The future is uncertain for everyone. I’m not special.
When she can get me to church on Sundays, we sit close in the pew, she to my left. She holds my left hand in hers. As happens so often, she senses the tremor and squeezes my hand. Momentarily the hand is still. It starts ever so slightly again. She covers my hand with both of hers and presses more firmly. I chance a glance at her, and she smiles. No words are spoken. I do not know, nor remember, what the priest said in his homily. I do not blame him.
In that touch and that smile, I have affirmation of all that I know to be good.
ken.ballinger@yahoo.com
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Editor’s Note: This is one of a series of articles written by a group of retired and current teachers — LaNae Abnet, Ken Ballinger, Billy Kreigh, Kathy Schwartz, and Anna Spalding. Their intent is to spur discussions at the dinner table and elsewhere. You may also voice your thoughts and reactions via The News-Banner’s letters to editor.
