LOVE CONQUERS ALL

If I Were My Husband, I Would Have Left Me Years Ago

Secrets of a long marriage

We’ve been married for almost 52 years, and have 2 adult children and 6 grandchildren.

Have we been lucky? — Blessed? — Fortunate? — Charmed?

Hell No!

We’ve worked our butts off to make this thing work all these years. No one said we’d make it.

Ha! We showed them!

What is the secret of a long marriage?

We have yet to learn. Trust me, there were times — but that’s a story for another time. Then again, maybe not.

“In good times and in bad,” The priest said. “Yes, Father Buchanan,” we vowed. So maybe that’s it, the vow is the secret.

I’m not sure, but what I am sure of is that my husband should have left me a long time ago. If I was him, I would have!

I didn’t cheat, drink, or physically abuse him unless throwing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at him counts as abuse. If so, I’m guilty as charged.

But I did stupid things without thinking and pushed his patience to the limit — sometimes over the limit. I’ll put that in my next story of why I should have left him!

But in my defense, he should have known what he was getting himself into.

I am a terrible driver; Always have been. So many of my major mishaps have been with the car.

My first minor accident happened during my senior year in college while driving Jim’s car. I plowed into a car in a funeral procession; Not a lot of damage, just a lot of commotion. Oops!

My driving never improved. Once I was in the driver's seat on our way home from having our family picture taken at JC PENNEY’s. Our baby daughter was snuggled into her car seat in the back.

Jim was in the passenger seat giving me yet another driving lesson.

We drove and argued all the way home as I tried to convince him that I didn’t need his expert tutorial on how to drive. As we pulled into the driveway of our little starter home, a non-descript ranch house on a slab with a very large picture window in front, I slammed the car door shut and went inside to pout. I thought I threw the car in park, but found out quickly I hadn’t.

I heard a lot of noise outside. The neighbors shouted, “Stop the car, stop the car, the baby’s inside!” Jim turned around just in time to stop the car and our baby from crashing through the picture window.

Another incident could have been grounds for divorce.

I was in the middle of a counseling session with a junior high school behavior group for 8th-grade boys when the principal came in and said I had an urgent call from my husband. I was scared something terrible had happened.

I was right, it was terrible!

“Where are my car keys? he shouted.

“Oh Shit, I think they’re still in my purse,” I said.

He shouted louder this time. “I have a meeting in an hour, I don’t care how, but you need to bring them back!”

“I can’t leave school!”

“Well figure it out, I’ve got a meeting with my boss in one hour!”

Clunk goes the phone. You may think he was being harsh, but I have to admit, it wasn’t the first time I accidentally took his keys. What the hell am I going to do? I wondered.

“I got it! I’ll call the Black and White taxi cab company and have them delivered.” I was relieved and thought I was pretty brilliant.

Jim didn’t see it quite like that. The keys were delivered to him within the hour, for a mere sum of $125.

But I honestly thought our marriage could be over the day I backed my Volvo sedan into a flag pole.

Early one Saturday morning I asked Jim to take my car to the dealership because the side mirror fell out of its frame. “I’m playing golf, you’ll have to go,” he said. I protested, “I can’t drive on the expressway if I don’t have a side mirror, I don’t feel safe.” Did I mention I am a terrible driver?

He said, “You can do this, just be careful.” “Ok then, I’ll go, but don’t say I didn’t warn you if something happens.” I blurted out. But under my breath, I said “You’re such a nincompoop.” — My endearing nickname for him.

I drove to the car dealership — so far so good. However, I pulled into the wrong parking lot. I had to back up, turn my car around, and head to the next lot. I got as far as backing up when I slammed into the enormous cement flag pole that supported ‘Old Glory “ which was also enormous and could be seen for miles flapping in the wind.

Several mechanics came rushing out to see what happened. They directed me to the sales car lot and alerted Steve, one of the salesmen, that I was coming in. I was quite upset. Steve was quite hopeful that this damsel in distress would turn into a customer.

Steve was so nice. He was very knowledgeable. He was the #1 salesman at the Volvo dealership! I was smitten.

The damage was surprisingly extensive. The back fender and trunk needed major work. Smart Steve said jokingly, “It will probably cost as much to fix it as it would if you bought a new car.”

Oh, the wheels started turning! Steve explained the finances, comparing the payments we were making, how much we’d get on a trade-in, and how much it would cost to fix it — to the cost of a new car.

I called my dear hubby, sniffling as I exaggerated. “I could have been killed. I told you it wasn’t safe for me to drive with a missing side mirror.”

“Oh so now somehow it’s my fault,” he responded”

“Well if the shoe fits…”

Jim came to survey the damage. He, too, was smitten with smart Steve, and I walked out of there with a brand-new Volvo sedan.

But the incident that even I would agree Jim should have left me over was the night he was released from the hospital.

It was late at night. It was dark and chilly, and the roads were slippery from the rain. Oh how I didn’t want to drive, but Jim couldn’t.

He had just had surgery for a ruptured Achilles heel and was in major pain. To make matters worse, he had not eaten in two days and had a wound vac attached to his leg, tubes hanging, while the machine sucked the junk from his leg. It made horrible gurgling sounds and a steady swish, swish which made me squeamish.

He was in pain, nervous, hungry, and angry.

I didn’t know where I was going but Jim said curtly, “Just follow the GPS.”

Drive straight on Park Road for two miles. Sounded easy enough. But the GPS forgot to tell me to drive straight on Park Road for one mile, drive around the traffic circle, and then continue driving straight on Park Road.

So I followed the instructions and went straight on Park Road, straight into the traffic circle where a pole a tree, and some bushes stopped my car.

Jim’s wound vac rustled around the car. Jim rustled around the car, too. He was in severe pain, and he got a headache when he bumped his head on the dashboard. He was starving and thirsty but my car was not drivable.

A nice young couple ran out of their house and let me use their phone to call AAA to tow my car. They brought Jim a couple of pieces of pizza and a Coke. They brought me a glass of wine.

I called our neighbor to come and get Jim and help him into the house and bed.

I stayed in the house with the nice young couple, ate pizza, and drank wine. Poor Jim!

So, why is he still with me, you ask?

I guess it boils down to one thing, despite it all, love conquers all.

But love can’t make someone a safe driver, so when we moved down South a few years ago, we sold my car and I seldom drive. I have an e-bike and I walk.

Life goes on!