25 Years With Paul

I have been married a long time.

First contact.  (Actual historical document.)

When Paul and I got married we were both working hard in related industries.  In fact, we slotted our wedding between job fairs, publishing deadlines and upcoming presentations.  List upon list of "to-do" items were checked off, etiquette books read and discarded, and friends called upon for help over and above that which we deserved.  But, in spite of all of our efforts, when we finally made it to the wedding we realized that we had entirely forgotten to obtain a marriage license.  The Rabbi was quite nice.  “Well, I’ll marry you in the eyes of G-d, and you guys can work it out with the State of California later.”  Now we have two anniversary dates.  The first marks the lovely little wedding we held at the location of our first dinner date. The second marks a giggling agreement made in a Los Angeles courthouse, in front of a stranger with a gold tooth and a lisp.

I now pronounce you man and wife, sort of.

It’s funny to get married twice in two weeks.  It was a second chance, I guess, to say “Great party, fun trip to Maui, but let’s not get carried away here.”  Instead we took a chance and said yes again, to an uncertain future with a person we knew just a little bit. 

25 years later

Now I know that I was lucky to happen upon this hard working, honest man. Over the years I’ve learned about his willingness to help people, to take the high road when everyone else was on the low road and to prioritize his children’s needs ahead of his own.  I’ve also learned that he shoots a mean dart gun, that he can fix tractors (most of the time) and that he’s a sucker for dogs. Sure, he might play his guitar too loud when I am trying to work, or drive too fast or stubbornly insist on a brown couch but these things are forgiven as I hope he forgives my skeptical nature, my terrible golf game and my revulsion for seafood.

When we had our tenth anniversary Paul and I picked out new rings. I asked him if he thought we should renew our vows.  He asked me why I would want to --his were still working just fine. “Let’s check in again at 50 years,” he suggested.

Sometime around our 15^th anniversary Paul planted 15 lilac trees on our property.  “They won’t bloom for years!” I lamented.  “We have time,” he promised.  Like most of our plans for life, not every tree made it, but the ones that did now fill each spring with a lush purple reminder of all the promises Paul has made to me that he has kept.

“You should have married somebody more pliable.” I mused aloud on our 20th.  “Someone who likes scuba diving, doesn’t get dizzy on a step stool and celebrates Christmas with good cheer.”  His answer both heartened me and foretold of more years of struggle in my future:  “Where would the fun be in that?” 

This year I asked Paul what we should do to celebrate our 25^th anniversary.  “Let’s start something new.”  He said.  “Something we can do when we’re old together.”  Sounds good.

Burrowes family portrait.