Nov. 6, 2012, is an important day, nationally and inter-nationally. It has been much ballyhooed, so certainly my readers (both) will be aware of the day's significance. It is, of course, the date of Kay and my 47th Wedding Anniversary!
Nobody makes a big deal out of numbers like 47. 45 and 50 get the headlines. It's important to us because, although we knew we'd stay together "'til death do us part," neither Kay nor I ever thought parting would be this long coming.
Back in 2000, I made something of a big deal out of our 35th Anniversary. We had all five children, two daughters-in-law and our then four grandchildren gather at a (now defunct) restaurant in Seelyville. The reason for our emphasis at the time was simple, neither Kay nor I believed we would both live to see another such memorial occasion. I had had a heart attack in 1998 and was told I probably would not survive another; Kay had had surgery which gave husband and children some measure of concern. Odds we'd be able to gather as a family for 40 or 45 seemed incalculable; for 50, unimaginable.
Somehow a dozen years passed, swiftly. I don't feel 47 years older today than when we married, or at least no older than on our 46th anniversary. This may well be because, having dragged Kay through so many odd events and equally odd places, I myself have learned so little.
It is probably well that -- life being what it is -- she has aged at the same rate as I; elsewise she might justifiably long since have let me go on alone. As I once told her (not admitting I'd stolen it from Robert Browning):
"Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!'"
The odd thing about it all is this:
After an odd number of children (letting pass what an odd group they comprise), after an odd life of odd employments -- and unemployments, after an odd combination of physical limits as to make me mostly dependent on her for mostly everything, for some odd reason she still loves me.
So we face a new odd number -- three. Can it be we will see the unimaginable Fiftieth intact? Odds are excellent. Both of us are in passing health for old folk. If we are not as young anymore, 47 years have tempered our long-ago vows as if so much steel. My innumerable oddities, if not totally behind me, are at least well established and proven tolerable.
Based on the above I postulate a hypothesis: The only reason Kay has continued to love someone as odd as me is because she's grown accustomed to so many odd events and equally odd places in the 47 years in our quite odd journey together.
And, it seems not odd at all that I still love her some very much.