Skip to main content

Anniversaries


There is something primal about anniversaries.  We have this emotional need to remember births, deaths, marriages, divorces – milestones in our lives.  The passage of time is both a blessing and a bane in our existence.
There is a need-to-know status to anniversaries that pepper our married and family lives.  God save the husband (or the wife) who forgets a wedding or engagement anniversary, and who doesn’t remember the day the divorce came through or that marked our retirement or resignation?  
My dear mother-in-law celebrates Valentine’s every year as the day my father-in-law proposed.  It gets more press than their actual wedding day.  All I remember is that HoneyBunch proposed sometime in late September and we married two months afterward. I feel like such a romantic slouch for not marking the exact time and day the dear man popped the question.
Birthdays were big in my family when I was a child, so I did the same with my three.  Their birthdays were circled on the family calendar in red marker and the entire day was considered just that – a red-letter day. It started with birthday wishes, cards, presents and ended with a special dinner, cake, and outing.  I keep the birthdays of relatives, friends, and famous people who I have crushes on.  
I remember the day I bought my first house (and every house after that).  I also remember the days I sold each one and drove away from the title company with a hefty check in my hand.  I remember the day I bought my first “cool” car.  I bought a silver convertible out of rebellion when I turned 45 that January.  I bought my red Jeep in December 2001 to celebrate my divorce, and I bought my maroon Altima in October 2014 just because I wanted to prove my independence.  
There are some sad days marked on my calendar.  The three times I stood and watched my youngest leave on deployment to the middle east are on there, but so are the three times I drove to the airport to pick him up afterward. The day we lost our baby grandson to a terrible household tragedy is marked, so are the days we said goodbye to my dear grandmother, my amazing father, and my handsome older brother.
It’s because people and events matter that we mark anniversaries. We measure the memory across time.  We celebrate it occurrence and for a few hours we relive the moment. Good, bad, sad, or happy – it documents our lives.  




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Finding My Muse

1)Because my muse has a wicked sense of humor and visits me at odd times and in inconvenient places, I have learned to record inspirations/ideas immediately before I forget them or they dissolve into nothing. I carry small notebooks, own a digital recorder, and have been known to text messages home. I will scribble on anything – old napkins I find in my glove compartment or old receipts. I even pop out of bed in the middle of the night to jot things on sticky pads. 2)Calendars are great places to find topics. I use important dates, seasons, and upcoming holidays to plan blog posts. I can also go back into my work calendar to refresh my memory about meetings, conferences, or books I have read that might be worth sharing with others.   3)I will sit with a good cup of coffee, pen and paper ready, and read the newspaper searching for topics, interesting characters, or modern trends.  News channels and other newsfeeds are just as good.   4)I love to read the TV and movie guides for titles and…

The Girl Who Eats Canned Spinach

I went to a Catholic elementary school run by strict Belgian nuns, and we could not leave the cafeteria until we ate everything served on our food tray. Once a week, they served warmed, canned spinach with our meal. The spinach tasted nothing like the way my grandmother made it, but I ate it. I gulped it down in three or four bites and it amazed my table mates. I told them we ate it at home so I was used to the taste. Now, my real problem began the day I ate the spinach off my friends’ trays so we could go play outside. As soon as the nun monitoring the cafeteria turned her back, my friends ate something off my tray I didn’t want, and I ate their serving of spinach. I only did it for two of my table mates, but the word spread. On the next Spinach Day, kids followed me to my table.I was suddenly very popular, and as soon as the nun marched off to the other end of the cafeteria, my friends and an army of others who only knew me as The Girl Who Eats Spinach, begged me to take their servin…

Facing My Fear of Guns

With the ownership of firearms comes responsibility, so I had asked HoneyBunch several times to teach me how to shoot and to help me get my License to Carry. I got my wish two weeks ago. HB and I signed up to take a LTC class. He bought me a gun, one similar to his, that would be the type we needed to show shooting proficiency, and for one whole week he tried to get me to become familiar with it, but I was hesitant. I read the booklet that came with the gun. I practiced loading and shooting it in what is called dry shooting (no bullets), and since the flyer said I would have to shoot thirty shots at different distances, I finally tried with it loaded. I was a nervous wreck. The class of twelve turned out to be close to forty people. We were of all ages, colors, and genders, and I was glad I wasn’t the only woman my age. The shooting test came first, and we were separated into two groups. Those who were proficient (or thought they were) would shoot first, and those who were novices wou…