By Charles P. Eberson
Senior Moments
My wife and I just celebrated our forty-three year wedding anniversary. Forty-three years of wedded bliss. I say this because ironically, her maiden name was Bliss. Is forty-three years a big deal? I mean, it’s not a traditional milestone measured in decades; thirty years, forty years or the gold standard, fifty years. Maybe not, but in these tumultuous times involving our country, the upheaval of our friends and family, I can’t help but reflect on our years together.
Perhaps it is because for the majority of our marriage, we have been occupied with distractions of raising a family and working. Upon my wife’s retirement, we embarked on a three month camping trip throughout the U.S. which provided its own distraction. Now, we are spending even more time at home together and it has given me pause as to how we have made it this far.
My wife and I could be a study in contrasts. Coming from Virginia, she is a lover of the forests. Nothing makes her happier than a walk in the woods. I am a beach boy growing up on our local beaches spending long summer days on the sand (as my dermatologist will attest to). She loves the rivers and me, the ocean. My wife is a fountain of boundless energy like a Slayer concert and I am more Simon and Garfunkel. We joke that in our relationship, she is the engine and I am the rudder.
There are times when my ears were pinned back and my eyeballs sucked into my head by her acceleration and I hung on for dear life. There were also times when I deftly steered us through the shallows and the rip currents but sometimes ran us aground. “Put it in reverse, dear.”
Differences in parenting styles became evident (as our counselor will attest to) but we managed to draw acceptable battle lines and in retrospect, didn’t do too badly. My wife is a talker and I, a listener. When we gather with friends or family, I usually sit and watch the conversation unfold like a tennis match, back and forth. When I do feel the urge to jump in with a comment I feel especially strongly about, the room falls silent and I get that unmistakable glare from my wife and am referred to as “The Conversation Sniper.”
There is a scene from the sitcom, Last Man Standing with Tim Allen that I identify with. After a comment Allen made, his wife asks, “Do you say every crazy thing that comes into your mind?” To which he answers, “Fortunately, no I don’t.” Sometimes, I am better off just listening.
There have been sleepless nights I have spent in a hospital recliner next to her bed praying for a speedy recovery and she has done the same for me. Perspective has a way of jumping up and slapping one in the face. My wife has commented that she didn’t know how I could have stayed with her all these years and frankly, I have wondered the same about her with me, perhaps even more so given my moodiness.
Time has a way of smoothing the rough edges much like river rocks or how the ocean makes beautiful sea glass out of broken bottles. Now, if only I can keep Tim Allen’s character in mind during conversations, my wife’s motor will keep running smoothly and I can keep a deft hand on the tiller for another year.
Charles Eberson has been in the newspaper business for over 25 years. He has worked as a writer, advertising executive, circulation manager and photographer. His photography can be viewed at charles-eberson.fineartamerica.com
