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Twenty

July 11, 2024

A tiny white heart marks a handful of photos on my phone in an album named “Us,” followed by a red heart emoji. It holds a funny Bitmoji of us driving in a car, a fan pic at a Detroit Tigers game, a family shot with Madison in her “guncles” pool and another taken somewhere on Anna Maria Island. We look happy in all of them, except for that silly “Are we there yet?” cartoon.

The first photo catches my eye. It’s a professional shot from the mid-2000s taken around Christmastime about 10 years ago. Maybe longer. Simpler times, fewer worries. At least that’s how it appears now.

Those were the good old days, as these will be some day. I look younger, which I was. More pepper than salt in my hair. Apple cheeks with a touch of blush and bright eyes minus any dark circles below. One chin. I’d like to assume the photo was retouched, except Rebecca looks exactly the same today.

Today marks our 20th year together. In 2004, we chose “7/11” as our anniversary because it was a lucky combination. Still is, as are we.

I like to joke that out of the last 20 years, we’ve had 19 really good ones. (Half kidding.) Looking back, being together seems like the most natural thing ever. I can’t imagine life without her. Without us.

To recap, when we got together I was 44, and she was 56. A 12-year age difference. To me, that wasn’t a concern. For her, maybe a little. My physical energy level has rarely matched my chronological age.

Rebecca has always has been somewhat of a social butterfly. Less so now, but still. I have an affinity for social distancing and blank calendars.

We found each other after a mutual period of grief, loss and heartache, and overcame our apprehension of becoming a couple. I swore I’d never move in with anyone again. And didn’t for a long time.

We waited nine years into our relationship to cohabitate, even though we lived just 10 minutes away. Then once I retired in 2013 and sold my house, we consolidated almost everything and combined households. Never looked back. It seemed as natural as breathing.

Don’t get me wrong. We are sometimes a House Divided.

Like when it comes to the University of Michigan and Michigan State University. (We honestly root for each other’s teams, except for one day a year.) Or loading the dishwasher properly. (I’ll defer to her on that task.) And folding bath towels. (My way’s correct, unless you believe her left-hander’s folding theory.) Or what makes a good movie. (There’s no accounting for taste.)

But we do agree on the important stuff: our values, beliefs, and what it takes to build and maintain a solid relationship. It hasn’t always been a walk in the park. Over the years, we have struggled with issues about home, work and family.

We have sought professional help when things reached a point where we needed someone to be Switzerland and hear each of us objectively. I highly recommend it, even though it was a difficult step to take. No one wants to think of themselves or their relationship as a failure. But it saved us.

Studies show that about 70 percent of married couples in the United States make it to their 10th anniversary, according to a report on marriage and divorce in Forbes that I read on brides.com (really). After that, the likelihood of a couple celebrating their 20th anniversary drops to about 50 percent.

The good news – if you can call it that – is that all couples struggle with the same issues. Finances, communication, trust and intimacy, to name a few.

Together, but as two distinct individuals, we have lived a wonderful life and been blessed. As poet Kahlil Gibran wrote in his “On Marriage” essay from The Prophet – and the advice I give to any new couple:

“Let there be spaces in your togetherness. And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. … And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart. And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.”

When we’re not basking in our separateness, we like to hang out with friends and family, take the Beast RV “glamping,” putter around the house, work in the yard, listen to Detroit Tigers baseball games, sit on the patio yelling at bold squirrels as chirping birds eat us out of house and home.

Tonight, after a quiet dinner out, and if it’s not raining, we’ll drive Mustang Sal up to Dairy Queen for a Blizzard (Butterfinger for her, Heath Bar for me), thank our lucky stars we’ve made it this far and hope for at least 20 more.

Happy Anniversary! xo

Here’s Al Green singing one of our favorites, “Let’s Stay Together” from 1972. Crank it up!

Retired print journalist and blogger.❤️🐾

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