Holly Hobby
 
Forty-three years ago today, RJ and I laid eyes on each other for the first time.
Exactly one year later on on the same July day we were married. According to him, “The biggest, most difficult accomplishment of my life was convincing Holly to marry me.” While I would never agree his biggest accomplishment was convincing me to marry him, in part, it is true. I had no interest in marriage. Especially not to some hottie young lawyer with an ego bigger than the Antarctic Desert.
Floating above my head was cartoon bubble where I imagined myself at the wheel of a station wagon packed with overly excited, impatient, insolent, quibbling, screaming children, at least two them threatening to kill each other. In that same cartoon bubble was the image of a woman with whose hair appeared straight out of mug shot (with a face to match). A bedraggled, rapidly aging woman with no time for a career of her own. A woman married to a man clearly married to his job. I just couldn’t. So. For eleven months and twelve days I kept the poor guy twisting in the wind; at the same time overwhelmed with guilt. I loved dating him. I loved being with him. I just didn’t want to get married. Since then, a thousand times plus I've thought "what an idiot!" Not him. Me.
Reminding me of that temporary delusion yesterday was the inadvertant stumbling upon a long forgotten photo album in the attic; one neither RJ or I even knew existed. It was that old. You know, the kind whose photos continue to withstand decades of extreme temperature and lack of attention. The kind replaced by digital storage ; the kind , so ancient, your kids gasp saying something like, "that's hilarious!" The kind whose brittle, yellowing photos remain permanently stuck to flimsy, cracking yellowing plastic page insets holding each image within.
I watched RJ stare at (the attached ) pic of me, kindly trying not to laugh. ” WHAT was with your HAIR!?” "Well, your's doesn’t look much better, bro.”
Speed forward to earlier tonight over dinner with friends when one asked, “what do you think is the secret to a happy lasting marriage?” Without missing a beat, RJ purveyed his sage wisdom: “even though you’re married, no matter how rough it gets, always treat each other as though you’re dating.” Clearly, every one of our friends were greatly impressed. Inspired, even.
Once I stopped choking on a sip of champagne I said, WHAT?! I’M the one who, 43 years ago, agreed to marry you ONLY if YOU PROMISED, "no matter how rough it gets we will ALWAYS treat each other as though we’re dating.” (And we have). That got a laugh, mainly because, busted, RJ shrugged his shoulders and laughed, “okay. Okay. She’s right. The woman has me so well trained (no matter what it is) I end up convinced I’m the one who thought of it!"
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