In late fall 1976, I said ‘yes.’ Next on the agenda was when to say ‘I do.’ My future husband Mike and I were young and in a hurry. We were hoping Mike’s widowed grandfather — who wasn’t in good health — would come live with us. We wanted to care for him and knew he’d never consider living with us unless we were married. Why we ever thought Grandpa Russell would consider moving from his comfortable life-long home in northern Indiana — far from his established doctors — to live in a run-down rental house with us on a 1000-acre farm near Ellettsville, I have no idea. I chalk that up to our total lack of life experience. I don’t know how we would’ve tended to him anyway, as I worked full-time and my fiancé was in a demanding grad school program. Not to mention how isolated Grandpa would have felt living miles from civilization. But we hurried the date along just the same, and chose Saturday, Jan. 1, 1977, for our big day. And — no big surprise — Grandpa Russell, with more wisdom and life experience, declined our generous offer.
When our first anniversary rolled around, we started wondering why we married on New Year’s Day. Most restaurants (back then) were closed that day. There would be no fancy celebratory dinner unless we chose to put on airs at McDonald’s. A night away to celebrate was out of the question, as hotels only offered pricey New Year’s Eve packages. And through the years — especially after kids came along — we were usually broke right after Christmas.
My husband jokes that I planned our wedding on a holiday so he’d never forget the date. But sad to admit, I’m the one who’s forgotten our anniversary more times than he has. My husband always manages to remember our anniversary with at least a card, flowers and candy, while I often give him a sheepish look and an apology.
He doesn’t hold my forgetfulness against me, and we both agree, it’s not wise to put too much weight on the date, anyway. It’s the days and weeks and years in between that count the most.
As starry-eyed youngsters we didn’t think much about ‘for better or worse’ or ‘in sickness and in health.’ And we never gave a moment’s consideration to that really big one, ‘for as long as we both shall live.’ My husband is 70 now, and I’m 68. There are fewer years ahead of us than behind us. We’ve lived through a lot of the ‘for better or worse,’ and have experienced more than our share of ‘in sickness and in health’. It’s the big one that haunts us now, knowing the day will come when one of us is gone. We feel lucky to have experienced a long marriage and a close relationship. We have enough life experience under our belts now to know not everyone has that. Heck, not everyone wants that!
When you hit the Golden Years, it’s better to live in the moment, but for most of us, that’s a constant challenge. Years ago, I heard author Ram Dass (Richard Alpert) speak at Indiana University, and his subject was “Be Here Now.” He shared Buddhist philosophy: The past is past, and the future hasn’t happened, so quit worrying about all that … and find contentment in the here and now.
The New Year always brings pressure to make resolutions. My 2020 resolution is to work on living in the here and now, and to stop obsessing about things I can’t change from my past, or the weight I won’t lose in the future. OK, one exception … I’m grateful to be able to look back and celebrate 43 years of marriage. Every Jan. 1 is a fresh beginning. Happy New Year, all!
Sharon Mangas can be reached at [email protected].
