Monday Morning Musing: My Husband

 

Today is my husband's birthday. A milestone year. We’ve been together for almost 50 years. He’s been my rock throughout all this time. Supportive of anything I’ve wanted to try, especially my writing. He’s cheered me on and commiserated with me over rejections. And he’s celebrated my successes.

As many of you know, we met on a blind date, arranged by two women friends—they both knew me and one’s husband worked with my guy. They thought we would be great together. We were…and still are. We are a generation similar to our parents, yet different in our attitudes, especially toward women’s roles. Before we married, we talked about my role when/if children came along. He said he was okay whatever I chose—to work outside the home or stay home and raise the children. I didn’t realize for a long time what a gift he gave me. The freedom of choice.

He looked on himself as the provider for the family. But his job entailed working much more than a 40-hour week, more like 60 to 80 hour-weeks. When he realized how much he was missing from the kids’ lives, he took a huge risk to change from an assured job to something unknown. It also meant moving several states away from our families. But the new job gave him more time with the children. Time to participate in their activities from Scouts to Odyssey of the Mind.

A quiet man, his love has always been expressed through his actions. He’s a listener, not a judge. Coming from a home where my father’s word was law, I couldn’t believe his understanding and his willingness to listen to other sides, not just with me but with the kids, too. His father was a gentle man, too. They say the apple doesn’t fall from the tree. Very true in this case.

Together, we raised two children who’ve taken the best qualities from each of us and expressed them in their own marriages. They chose spouses who complemented them. Just as he complemented me. We have different talents and skills. He’s math and science; I’m arts and literature. His spatial reasoning puts me to shame. When he says something won’t fit, it usually doesn’t. Woodworking is a talent he put to good use. We have furniture he built, so do our kids. Our grandchildren have Adirondack chairs (their names engraved down one slat) that Papa made. Unfortunately, we have different political views. 😊  In fact, we often cancel each other’s votes.

I’ve often said what a blessing our five grandchildren are. Crawling up on Papa’s lap never gets old. The little ones learn about gentle teasing (never cruel) and tickling. They giggle, race away, then return for more. Pulling on his beard, gently, makes them giggle more.

For almost two years, he wasn’t himself. Strokes, confusion, and what was misdiagnosed as early dementia made him seem distant and vague, as if he couldn’t focus on anything or anyone. It was a scary time for us adults, confusing for the young ones. Worse was the distance because of covid. Thank God, the doctors finally diagnosed him correctly with a proper cure. Our husband, father, grandfather returned.

I’ve been very fortunate to know this man for so long, to work with him as a partner through the good times and difficult ones. My wish for him on this special birthday is that we have many more years together.

 

Happy Birthday, sweetheart.

 

Endings and Beginnings

Although summer doesn't officially start for another week, it arrived for children in our town on Friday with the last day of school. Mothers posted on Facebook Last Day of School pictures side by side with the First Day last fall. We all marveled at how much the kids had grown. End of the school year brings relief to kids and teachers (I remember that time well).

Yesterday, we attended our granddaughter’s dance recital, the culmination of another year of classes. From the tiny (two-year-olds) kids to the most experienced, they showed off their talent. I love watched g-daughter dance. She may not be the best dancer, but she has the biggest smile. Dancing gives her so much joy.

Around neighborhoods like ours, graduation parties proliferate. Tents sprout like spring flowers. Not for fear of rain this year, but for shade because of the heat wave spreading across the country. Pictures and memorabilia show how much the graduate has accomplished and changed through the years. Families interrogate her/him on plans for the future. (Friends already know. LOL)

What’s next?

As a part of their lives ends, another begins. University, community college, trade school, job. Graduates are thrilled to be finished with school and anxiously anticipate this next phase. Younger kids look forward to a whole summer of nothing to do. Hah! Summer camp—science, math, sports—day care, library reading challenges, scheduled events.

Each year around this time, my daughter asks her kids what they want to do during the summer then writes the list on poster paper, and tapes it in a visible place. As they do each item, they check it off. Last year, my grandson went to a local college for two week-long science camps. He had so much fun I asked him if he was going to do it again. He said no. He didn’t want to do anything. My son said that one summer, but he was a bit older.

There’s a lot to be said about over-scheduling kids. Somehow, parents have to find a balance. Kids need breaks from the regimentation of school, to hang out with their friends, to have quiet time, to do nothing. I was raised with the mentality that “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.” My dad left chore lists each day. We had a large vegetable garden that needed constant weeding. All I wanted to do was find a shady spot and read.

With every ending, there’s a new beginning. Like weddings. The end of single life and the beginning of a shared life. My youngest niece will be married next month. I love those times when families get together and celebrate.

On a side note, last Friday I had an anniversary of sorts—the day I met my husband. If you’ve been a reader of this blog or my books, you know that we met as a result of a blind date. When he called to set up the date, we talked for over an hour, discovering mutual interests and that we lived in the same apartment complex. That first date happened forty-five years ago. As I write in all my books, how glad I am that our friends fixed us up on that blind date.

Tomorrow is my turn over at Paranormal Romantics. I hope you pop in and see what I talk about.