29 Years

My wife and I were married on a very hot and balmy June 15, 1996 in a community building in Winona Lake, Indiana by a Justice of the Peace. The building was filled with a who’s who of family, friends, and distant acquaintances that I probably barely knew back then. I certainly don’t remember them now, 29 years later.

I was nervous, not because I had second thoughts about marrying the red-haired band geek I’d been dating for five years up to that point. I knew I wanted to spend my life with this girl, that was for sure. And I think she felt the same way. I thought I knew at the time what being in a relationship with a person that you felt was “the one” felt like, but at 22-years old you don’t really know much of anything about relationships. A depth of emotional connection cannot be truly known four years out of high school. It takes years of being together, creating an adult life filled with disagreements, arguments, hurt feelings, and misunderstandings before you get to that kind of deep knowing.

How many licks does it take to get to the center of a marriage? A hell of a lot, that’s how many.

No, I was nervous because that’s my usual zone when being the center of attention. I was not a fan of all eyes on the sweaty big guy. Even with one of my closest friends standing to my right as my best man, or my dad dutifully tying my tie in one of the musty hot box rooms a mere few minutes before the big show. Even if that sweltering building was filled with family and friends(and those acquaintances), I was still sweating under the sweat. My wedding suit my parents bought for me feeling like a monkey suit, and me being the monkey groom. I’m more of a behind the scenes guy, not the main event guy.

Regardless, I made it to the front of the hall as our guests smiled and talked under their breath and waited for my blushing bride to make her appearance. And as she began walking down the makeshift aisle she began nervous laughing as if she’d pulled a few tokes off a nitrous tank. As I stood there somewhat horrified but keeping a weird smirk plastered on my face like all of this was supposed to be happening, my blushing bride regained her composure and the justice of the peace did her thing.

After a sweltering meet and greet outside the building, shaking hands and hugging grandparents, aunts and uncles, and great aunts and uncles, we finally made it back to my parents house where we were temporarily living while our house was being built.

We were married; in sickness and in health, till death(or divorce) do us part.

Our honeymoon was a trip to Johnson City, Tennessee where my wife went to college for a semester in 1992. And we stayed with her maid of honor and friend she met while going to ETSU. We hiked in hills, saw a huge fireworks show, ate some amazing Japanese food, and I bought my first 6-string Rickenbacker. It was an overall fun honeymoon.

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Those first few years of marriage wedding anniversaries were something to celebrate. An annual celebration of the fact that we made it another year without really screwing it up or pissing each other off enough to want to end the damn thing. It’s like going through cancer or some other major health battle. For those first few years after you’ve beaten it you tend to celebrate those yearly anniversaries from the time you were in remission or cancer-free. But after a few years have passed it seems like it took, so maybe you just say a little prayer on the day and move on. What’s special about your 8th wedding anniversary? Or your 16th? Sure, a 10th wedding anniversary, or 20th feel like milestones. But all the others are just another day.

If you found the right person any day can be a celebration of being together. A surprise night out, or a wonderful meal shared on a Tuesday night. A trip to the lake, or a three-day stay in a cabin in the woods. Laughing till tears stream down your cheeks over something ridiculous. Even standing in the backyard on a sunny day thinking about what sort of projects could be done to spruce things up. Why wait for one day out of the year to celebrate being together when you can do it all year long?

As I said earlier, you don’t know anything about a truly deep, emotionally-rich, meaningful relationship when you’re 22. It takes a lot of amazing times and a lot of extremely hard times to layer a relationship. It’s one thing to be happy and in love when things are great. But throw in deaths, serious illness, arguments and things regretfully said in the heat of the moment, and raising children together. Throw in financial strains, job stress, and a sick dog vomiting or crapping all over the bedroom at 2 am. When you can weather those storms together and still feel that deep, almost painful twist of love and desire in your chest for that person you walked down the aisle with, then you’ve come to that point. You know what love truly is. How deep it can go(Bee Gees pun not intended.)

Our anniversary was this past Sunday, on Father’s Day. Felt fitting, as if it weren’t for the marriage I wouldn’t be a father. We grilled food and all our kids were home to spend the day with us. Tuesday after my wife got home we headed out to Goshen, IN to eat at one of our favorite burger joints, Biebs & Ash. We had smash burgers, fries, and some extremely “hot” hot deep fried curds. Not something we’d normally order, but hey your 29th wedding anniversary only comes around once. Afterwards we looked around Ignition Music, then went to Lowes to look for some large plexiglass sheets that she needed for work. We ended our trip with some ice cream.

29 years in, and I can’t imagine being with anyone else. She makes me laugh, she thinks of the things I don’t, she’s good with keeping us financially in check, and she doesn’t mind driving as long as I can drive late at night. She knows when my anxiety flares up and I’m not quite right, and she’s way smarter and thoughtful than she gives herself credit for. And when you find someone that finds you equally funny and thoughtful, what else is there? The storms we weather are few and far between, and when we do have to weather them it’s us weathering them together. Picking up the slack when the other is too worn out to.

That’s a successful marriage to me.