50! Celebrating the Halfway Point

Fifty years ago – 50! – Lona and I were married on August 24, 1969, at 2 pm in Washington DC at the Hotel America. We met for the first time on a blind date (no, we both had good vision) on the day of Super Bowl 3, when the underdog New York Jets beat the Baltimore Colts 16 – 7, on January 12, 1969. We opted for coffee at the Old Angler’s Inn, which we sipped slowly next to the fireplace rather than watching the game. (We weren’t into football until our two sons, not even a thought then, were in school.)

I hadn’t even seriously considered proposing until the second date a week or so later. I thought it was irresponsible to make such a momentous decision on the first date. Coward that I can be at times, it took a couple of months to gather the courage to pop the question. That was just a few weeks before July 20, when we (not literally) landed on the moon, and the very day that the golden retriever we called “Dusty” (for Lunar Dust) was born. Dusty was our first child, so to speak, and she gave us 11 puppies, delivered skillfully by Lona, but that’s another story.

Who’s Counting?

“Congratulations!” That’s what just about everybody said when I told them I was celebrating my 50th wedding anniversary.

“Thanks,” I replied. “Finally, we reached the halfway point; 50 years more to go.”

Although a writer now, I must still be a scientist down deep, since I framed my response (in jest, of course) in terms of a “half-life,” which is the amount of time that it takes for 50% of a group of unstable atoms to decay. I know, that’s a ridiculous measure of time for a wedding anniversary, but it did make me think of the relative nature of time.

The half-life of carbon-14 – 5,730 years – is often used to date ancient things; I have no allusions that this measure is relevant for our marriage. The half-lives of other unstable atoms range from tiny fractions of seconds – also not relevant – to longer than 4-5 billion years; that’s longer than from the beginning of the universe! Let’s face it: we humans live in an extremely limited – a minuscule – window of time.

Celebrating a Lifetime

So, how to celebrate number 50 – a big party, an anniversary elopement to a tropical island, a quiet evening together at a favorite restaurant? No. The choice was simple: be with our two boys (Auran and Anton), their wonderful wives (Tonje and Ava), and our beloved grandchildren (Sivan, Dalia, Klara, Reuben and Tobias), however we can accomplish that feat. Assembling all 11 under one roof can be like herding cats (note: I have nothing against cats).

For the anniversary day itself – August 24 – our granddaughter, Klara, 15, came for a short week from San Francisco to visit us in Bethesda. Lucky us! We had that quiet dinner at a special restaurant with her. Nothing like a beautiful granddaughter to appreciate the wonders of 50 years of marriage.

Mohonk Reort

Then came the extravaganza. We arranged for the whole family (except, unfortunately, Sivan, our 20-year-old granddaughter, couldn’t join us since she had just started her senior year at Wesleyan College) to meet over Labor Day weekend at Mohonk, a resort in the Catskill mountains not far from New York. The numerous activities there – hiking, swimming, eating, boating, square dancing, eating, reading, massages, eating, yoga, carriage rides, and then more, before a final snack – gave everyone, from the youngest to the oldest, and everyone in between, the choice and freedom to do as they would like. That’s a find! And the resort was 150 years old, which made me feel young.

Now, here’s the conflict for Lona and me: do we accumulate activity points or chill out with a good book (and ice cream on the side).

“Auran, did you swim across the lake?” I asked.

“Yeah. About 25 times.” He said it all as a matter of routine.

25 times!!! Actually, he admitted that he exaggerated a bit. Oh, and his wife Tonje swam with him. Are they kidding? I would need to take my cell phone to call 911 at the midway point of the first crossing. Well, I had to keep reminding myself that this was my 50^th  anniversary, and can say, “Been there, done that. Give me a break!”

“Hey,” I asked Anton, who was with his daughter Dalia, 16, and son Reuben, 13, “what are you guys planning to do this afternoon? It’s a beautiful day.”

“We’re going to climb the lemon squeeze.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s rock climbing over boulders and ladders, and scaling the rock wall within a tiny crevasse, apparently only a fraction wider than our bodies.”

“That sounds like fun,” I said, with a certain apprehension. “Maybe I’ll come with you.”

Silence. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea, Dad. It’s pretty rugged.”

Dalia, Lona and Joram

Lona was too intelligent to even suggest going. And, of course, my threat of accompanying them was not serious. I’m not out of my mind yet.

However, it was hard enough to remind myself this was my 50^th anniversary, but having my kids remind me? That was another matter! By the way, the whole family (minus the grandparents) climbed the lemon squeeze, and pictures confirmed Anton’s point. They were happy to survive, but it was terrifying for some. Lona and I went on a peaceful, beautiful hike to where they emerged from the lemon squeeze.

Aging can be a privilege.

Never mind. There’s more to life than rock climbing. Lona and I square-danced after dinner once. How’s that for plunging into physical activity with kids 10 and younger, as well as with some adults? Don’t laugh. I was sweating at the end.

The carriage ride to magnificent views with Lona, Auran and Anton and the four grandkids, pulled by two mules that looked just like horses, was great. Somehow, I always thought that mules looked like donkeys, but that doesn’t seem to be always true. Live and learn, even on my 50^th.

A Toast to Many More

Then came our anniversary dinner. We all dressed up fancy and had our mandatory group picture. It warmed my heart with love and pride to see the two of us – Lona and me – having produced such a special, good-looking bright family.

It made me think of my father and pregnant mother (with me) and two-year-old sister Jephta, who came to America in 1939 to escape the war from France. I was born six months later in Elizabethtown in the Adirondacks, close to Mohonk. So, my immediate family grew from 4 in my childhood to 25 before my parents died, and then, sadly, Jephta succumbed to Parkinson’s earlier this year. But with all our grandchildren, plus 5 nephews from my sister, our family will keep ballooning. I’m looking forward to our 100^th anniversary!

We ate (again!), toasted, talked, laughed – especially after dinner and bloated with wine – and, well, and nothing. We were together, the ten of us, on our 50^th wedding anniversary. That was more than enough.