A Celebration of Marriage (No, Really!)

My mom and dad in 1969.

Today is my parents’ 42^nd wedding anniversary. Now, first, I marvel at the fact that two people can commit to each other successfully for 42 days, so 42 years to me is off-the-charts fantastic. Whenever people tell me that they or someone they know has been married for any period of time longer than the amount of time I was married, I am always in awe of them. My marriage lasted six and a half years. Six and a half long years. In fact, due to the amount of strife that occurred during that time period, it is almost like I was married for 42 years! However, we will not dwell on my former marital problems today. Today will be a big old love fest as we celebrate my parents’ marriage. Allow me to give you a little history.

My parents, Steve and Gwyn, met in 1969 on a blind date. No, I am not kidding. Though it might be the world’s first and only successful match made on a blind date, it did happen. My mom broke a mirror as she was getting ready for her date with my dad, so she was afraid that he would turn out to be some unspeakably ugly person with horrible breath and a limp. However, this fear turned out to be unfounded. She ended up with my dad, who, by all accounts, was quite the looker back then.

When my parents met, my mom was a senior in high school, and my dad was in his freshman year of college. Although many guys might not consider it cool to date a high school girl, my mom was fetching enough that my dad never gave any of the college girls a second look. When they started dating, my dad took my mom to fraternity parties, and even gave her his lavaliere. They rang in the seventies as a couple.

Mom and Dad mugging by the cake at their wedding.

In 1971, my mom and dad got married. My mom was only 20, and my dad was 21. Now, when I was that age, I considered it a success if I actually woke up when my alarm went off, and my biggest commitment at that point in my life was to always use toner in my nightly skincare routine. However, back when my parents started dating, people got married, and, in general, took on other responsibilities at much younger ages than they do now. As you can tell from my parents’ groovy duds, their wedding clearly took place in the seventies. Notice my dad’s awesome hair and my mom’s cool eye makeup. (I am actually not making fun of the eye makeup—I really like it. The hair—well, okay, maybe I am making fun of the hair a little.)

My parents went on to have three adorable children. Christopher, Audrey, and Devin. Well, okay, to be honest, Christopher and Devin were passably attractive children, while Audrey’s beauty and cuteness outshone even the brightest stars in the sky. Christopher was born in 1975, when Gwyn was 24, and Steve was 25. Audrey was born three years later in 1978, and Devin was born three years even later, in 1981. When I ponder the ages my parents were when they became, well, parents, I am dumbfounded. When I was 24, I was completing my teaching certificate on my parents’ dime because I had not initially gotten a degree in something that lent itself to making a living. I was living at home with my mom and dad, and enjoying doing things like giving myself an at-home pedicure at 2 PM on a Tuesday because I only worked part time while getting my certificate. The fact that my parents were working and raising a family at the same age makes me feel awestruck, lucky to have been able to delay adulthood for so long, and a little sorry that I didn’t possess the drive and adultness they did at such a young age.

On the back of this photo, next to my name, it says in
parentheses "with dirty face."

I then consider that when my mom was my age, 35, she had three children, the oldest of whom was eleven. I do have pets, though, for whom I successfully care, and none of who have died due to my lack of attention, so I guess that’s a good sign. Plus, I usually pay for most of my own stuff, except when my parents refuse to let me, and when my mom gives me cash for no reason, which I give back to her and later find stuffed in the pocket on the side of my purse/knitting bag.

All in all, I would say my brothers and I got extraordinarily lucky with our parents. They are loving, kind, generous, intelligent, funny, and wonderful people; and they did their best to instill those values in each of us. (They didn’t have to try to instill adorableness, particularly in young Audrey, as it just came naturally.) My parents have provided a great example of a loving, functional, and real marriage. They have always been honest with each other, and willing to say what they really thought to each other, which I think has been an important part of their success as a couple.

Mom and Dad in late 2012. They've still got it!

I, therefore, have no explanation as to why I have always been such a terrible picker when it comes to relationships. Maybe when I started dating I thought someone told me it was Opposite Day, and I was supposed to pick guys who were the opposite of what I wanted, or maybe I accidentally chose the Bizarro versions of all the guys I was supposed to choose. Who knows? Anyway, I am finally starting to try to choose better people in my life, and I can thank my parents for helping me, even at my ripe old age, see that you should not date guys who, say, don’t have cars, or who pay for first date meals with gift cards.

I will leave you with a recent photo of my parents. If I do say so myself, and I do, they still make quite the dashing couple. They now have three grown children who are at least moderately successful, a lovely granddaughter, and many grand-doggies and kitties. I’d say they have a pretty good life, which they have earned every step of the way. Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad!