Tomorrow, we’ll observe sixty-six years of marriage. In the evening, we’ll have supper at Merrill and Houston’s in Beloit. It’s that once-a-year occasion when Ken puts on his suit and I don my only dress.
The best part of our life together is the family we’ve created. We cherish our children, grandchildren and those who have married into our clan.
In some ways, it doesn’t seem that long ago that Dad escorted me down the Trinity Lutheran Church aisle to the altar where Ken and I repeated the traditional vows, “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love and to cherish until death us do part.” During the 24,106 days we’ve been together, we’ve lived those promises that we renewed in front of the same altar in a new church as part of the celebration of our Golden Anniversary.
There have been many changes from those beginning days when we settled down on the farm where Ken worked as his brother-in-law’s hired man. I followed the norm of the time and was a housewife who became a mother. Seven years and three kids later, Ken took off his coveralls and replaced them with a Winnebago County Sheriff’s Police uniform. We moved from the house that belonged to the farm to the home we bought in the village of Durand.
A few things still serve us. We sleep in the same bed and store our underthings in the same drawers. When I cook a meal, I use the copper-bottomed, stainless-steel pots and pans that were wedding gifts. A few squirts of Pam and they are as easy to clean as the modern, nonstick varieties.
We realize how fortunate we are to still be together and in pretty good health. Ken is retired from law enforcement. I hope to never quit writing. My husband has said he never heard of a housewife retiring so I’ll continue to prepare our meals and do the other little things that make up my days.
Although, we’re both home most of the time, we aren’t always together. During the warm part of the year, Ken takes care of the outside work including mowing the lawn and gardening.
We have two TV sets–one is in the family room, which Ken sits in his recliner and watches. The other is in the living room across from my rocker. The kitchen is between the two rooms so the sounds don’t clash. Years ago, when there were only three stations available, we always agreed on the programs to watch but with more than 200 options via cable, we have different tastes.
I’m thankful for that bold, sixteen-year-old guy who started our life together with the words, “Would you care to ride the Ferris wheel?”