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

Dating Challenged

I stink at dating – always have.I sputter.I hyperventilate.I fail miserably every time. I blame a pathetically underdeveloped gene that got little use before I married in my early twenties, then atrophied, gathering dust and rust, until I became single again in my fifties. I decided to use this defect to my advantage when I needed to do some investigative reporting a few years back.While on a newspaper writing assignment on Boomer-aged dating, I sacrificed my dignity and my vanity for the sake of the story (and I got several).

Thank goodness, HoneyBunch saved me from all this when we married.  (He comes up with the best dates.) I’ve decided I will “show you mine if you show me yours.”I will swap dating horror stories with you, but you have to promise to play along. The trick here is to tell about your worst date in 25 words or less.You must keep it clean and you cannot name names. Our little contest will run only this week and before my next blogger posting. Me first: The facts:My mom f…

Happy Breastday to Me!

I gave myself a very special birthday present this year – I had surgery. Before you think it was to increase, decrease, or “lift” something, let me tell you it was not cosmetic (though I could probably use a few nips and tucks at my age; the infinite number of creams I buy OTC are not working their promised magic). About four or five months ago, I discovered a hard lump about the size of a large marble in my left armpit.  I had been feeling small pangs of pain in my left chest for several months, but I figured it was just my turn to dance with heart disease.  Everyone in my immediate family is diabetic and suffers from strokes or heart attacks, so I thought – here we go; my turn. I was going to tell my internist about the pangs during my next visit, so imagine my surprise when I discovered the lump. The Drama Queen in me immediately manifested herself – cancer, I thought.  I have cancer. I searched some more and found that the texture on the left side of my left breast felt different t…

Grandma’s Dining Table

Twenty five years ago my first husband and I bought a new home with four bedrooms and three baths, but my favorite part of the house was the enormous room you walked into from the front door. It had no dividing wall but the design was to use half of it as a formal living and the other half as a formal dining. From the beginning I decided to make it into one huge dining room that would catch the eye when everyone walked in through the front door of my home.   My three children were very young, but I envisioned them grown and married. We counted five at the time, but one day we would grow to eight, maybe more if we factored in grandchildren, so I bought a table that sat a family of twelve.  My husband thought it silly to look that far ahead and convinced me to buy only ten chairs. The room looked magnificent – the long, majestic table, the ten chairs, the buffet, a couple of real ficus, and a few other nice pieces of furniture – I was pleased. The table lasted longer than the marriage, a…