Fifty Years of Marriage—Worth Every Moment

My husband and I still can’t believe we’ve been married 50 years as of today. And we spent three days in Boca Raton to celebrate. We went to the beautiful Morikami Museum and Gardens, and simmered in the heat, but we couldn’t pass up seeing the beautiful bonsai trees, some of them 50-60 years old. The next day we went on the Old Fort Lauderdale tour, and were blown away by the history of the town; we also enjoyed talking with an artist whose colorful art was quirky and moving at the same time. And we also went out for an incredible dinner, taking our time and relishing a 10-year-old wine we had saved for this occasion.

But on reflection, the best part for me was realizing where we have arrived in this moment. First, we kept saying to each other, can you believe it’s 50 years? When you only treat this occasion as one event, it doesn’t seem to account for all the years that we struggled and celebrated. There’s Jerry studying for his B.S. while working full time, and we rarely saw each other during those four years. I felt very lonely, but did my best to be patient (which was not my strongest attribute). Then Jerry taught me to drive his ’64 Corvette (when I’d never driven a racing clutch) and showed enormous patience. (Rather than get angry when I got stuck trying to get up a driveway to exit a parking lot, he tried not to giggle. We finally switched places.)

There was the time he was betrayed by a business partner, and it was a tough recovery; we almost moved to Massachusetts, thinking the deal was set. Or the time I decided to seriously pursue Buddhism, and then returned to Judaism after 20 years. Or when Jerry suggested we move to Florida, which we had never discussed and wasn’t on my wish list. But instead of rejecting the idea, we wrote down the pros and cons; as some “doors” for staying continued to close, new “doors” for moving opened up. And we moved.

But most memorable to me is the intimacy and knowledge of each other that 50 years brings. There is reading each other’s thoughts. Or when I tease Jerry and I carry on a conversation and speak for both sides—my thought, then his, then mine, then his. It’s hysterical, and he loves it. The arguments we have are usually trying to convince the other person it's his or her time to pick the restaurant on a Saturday night. We’re determined to let the other choose their preference. There are the patterns that have changed over time: Jerry almost always cooks dinner and does the laundry. I make out the menus and the shopping list for each week. We each tend to sense when the other person isn’t doing well, either emotionally or physically. Jerry was my hero in taking care of me through breast cancer; I have tried to be loving and supportive as his bronchiectasis (which he has struggled with for 25 years) has worsened.

Maybe the best part of all is that we are partners. We consult each other when anything we do will have an impact on the other one. We make each other laugh, and better yet, have learned to laugh at ourselves. We have drawn out the best part of each other: Jerry loves to help out our friends and neighbors when they need an extra hand; I have been present for friends when they have had losses. We remind each other about how proud we are of the generosity and kindness we see in the other.

So, 50 years gets you a lot. And we’ve both agreed to renew our contract!