So, Is 30 Plutonium, or Something?
Sometimes when I’m posting here, I feel smudged in narcissism, which feels only a little less pleasant than being smudged in fudge sauce. I know it’s probably not healthy, but who doesn’t love fudge sauce?
In less than one week, John and I will celebrate 30 years of wedded bliss, and the question has come to me from time to time in the past few weeks, why does love stick sometimes, and not other times? Why are we still together when so many wonderful people I know just couldn't stay happy, or stay together . . . or just stay happy together? Sunday is our anniversary, and while we’re happy about that, we can’t tell you how or why it happened. We’ve invested time and energy to keep each other happy, but we have no oracle to share.
We met through his roommate, who had a crush on one of my roommates. He felt encouraged enough to call up one Friday evening to invite her to come to his apartment and eat a cake he had just made. The cake had ice cream in the frosting, and needed to be eaten ASAP. I was home alone that night, probably fixing a pipe under the bathroom sink or scrubbing cupboard doors in the kitchen – you know, partying hard. The phone conversation went something like this:
“Hi, this is Doug. Is Jenny home?”
I knew who Doug was – he and his roommates lived around the corner from us, but I had never really talked to him before.
“I’m afraid she’s not.”
“Hmm, well, is Laurie home?” (roommate #2)
“Sorry, no.”
“Oh. Is Amy home?” (roomie #3)
“Nope, sorry”
“So, who are you?” in an accusatory sort of tone.
“I’m Linda,” trying not to feel defensive.
“How come I don’t know you?”
“I don’t know.”
What I wanted to say was that it was probably because I was taking 17 credit hours at the time, rehearsing 20 hours a week with the Young Ambassadors, and working 28 hours a week at a local drug store to support myself. I didn’t know anyone.
“Well, I guess you’ll do. Wanna come over and eat some cake?”
How was a girl to resist? It was a Friday night, after all, and I really didn’t want to be home alone, and I sometimes like cake (I’m kind of a pie girl, actually). So I went, shameless cake-eater that I was. I walked over to their house, and down the stairs into their basement apartment, and as I walked in the door, there was this boy sitting on the coffee table, playing a guitar and singing. He wasn’t Doug. I didn’t know who he was, and I wondered to myself, “Why haven’t I met this cute boy before?”
That was in March of 1979. By the end of July we were engaged, and we married on November 1. I have told my kids that that’s not the way to do it, but “do as I say and not as I do” is dangerous.
So, how did we know we’d be happy 30 years later? We didn’t. I’d love to say I was smart and wise and analytical and had a perfect idea ahead of time and that John just fit the bill perfectly. He did fit the bill, but I wasn’t smart. I was twenty, for heaven’s sake! I felt so old and mature (pronounced ma-TOO-er), but I wasn’t. I was a baby, and he was a baby just three years older than me.
Here’s what we knew. When we were together, we couldn’t shut up. We would fall all over each other talking and finishing each others’ sentences and interrupting and forgetting what we had started off talking about, all in the most incredible stream of conscious conversations that lasted hours and hours. This went on for weeks and weeks (actually, it’s been going on for 30 years). Our cultural backgrounds were similar – our fathers were both professors, and our moms were both driven, bright women, even within the confines of the norms of their generation. We share the same faith.
There was the gut feeling that I’d never had before that this man would help me become who I wanted to become. That helped. And, I guess you could say that we shared a vision of what our life together might be. We knew that our marriage needed to be an equal partnership, and we determined early on to face outside adversity by standing closer together. And frankly, all opposition has been viewed as outside opposition.
Other than that, we had not a single clue. We never dreamed that we would have a child with cancer, or that John would need to leave his first job because of the dishonesty and jealousy of a colleague. We never dreamed we’d settle in New Hampshire, or that we would take our family repeatedly to live in Granada, Spain as part of his work. It has been up and down, sad and happy, hard and wondrous.
And we still never shut up.
In less than one week, John and I will celebrate 30 years of wedded bliss, and the question has come to me from time to time in the past few weeks, why does love stick sometimes, and not other times? Why are we still together when so many wonderful people I know just couldn't stay happy, or stay together . . . or just stay happy together? Sunday is our anniversary, and while we’re happy about that, we can’t tell you how or why it happened. We’ve invested time and energy to keep each other happy, but we have no oracle to share.We met through his roommate, who had a crush on one of my roommates. He felt encouraged enough to call up one Friday evening to invite her to come to his apartment and eat a cake he had just made. The cake had ice cream in the frosting, and needed to be eaten ASAP. I was home alone that night, probably fixing a pipe under the bathroom sink or scrubbing cupboard doors in the kitchen – you know, partying hard. The phone conversation went something like this:
“Hi, this is Doug. Is Jenny home?”
I knew who Doug was – he and his roommates lived around the corner from us, but I had never really talked to him before.
“I’m afraid she’s not.”
“Hmm, well, is Laurie home?” (roommate #2)
“Sorry, no.”
“Oh. Is Amy home?” (roomie #3)
“Nope, sorry”
“So, who are you?” in an accusatory sort of tone.
“I’m Linda,” trying not to feel defensive.
“How come I don’t know you?”
“I don’t know.”
What I wanted to say was that it was probably because I was taking 17 credit hours at the time, rehearsing 20 hours a week with the Young Ambassadors, and working 28 hours a week at a local drug store to support myself. I didn’t know anyone.
“Well, I guess you’ll do. Wanna come over and eat some cake?”
How was a girl to resist? It was a Friday night, after all, and I really didn’t want to be home alone, and I sometimes like cake (I’m kind of a pie girl, actually). So I went, shameless cake-eater that I was. I walked over to their house, and down the stairs into their basement apartment, and as I walked in the door, there was this boy sitting on the coffee table, playing a guitar and singing. He wasn’t Doug. I didn’t know who he was, and I wondered to myself, “Why haven’t I met this cute boy before?”
That was in March of 1979. By the end of July we were engaged, and we married on November 1. I have told my kids that that’s not the way to do it, but “do as I say and not as I do” is dangerous.
So, how did we know we’d be happy 30 years later? We didn’t. I’d love to say I was smart and wise and analytical and had a perfect idea ahead of time and that John just fit the bill perfectly. He did fit the bill, but I wasn’t smart. I was twenty, for heaven’s sake! I felt so old and mature (pronounced ma-TOO-er), but I wasn’t. I was a baby, and he was a baby just three years older than me.
Here’s what we knew. When we were together, we couldn’t shut up. We would fall all over each other talking and finishing each others’ sentences and interrupting and forgetting what we had started off talking about, all in the most incredible stream of conscious conversations that lasted hours and hours. This went on for weeks and weeks (actually, it’s been going on for 30 years). Our cultural backgrounds were similar – our fathers were both professors, and our moms were both driven, bright women, even within the confines of the norms of their generation. We share the same faith.
There was the gut feeling that I’d never had before that this man would help me become who I wanted to become. That helped. And, I guess you could say that we shared a vision of what our life together might be. We knew that our marriage needed to be an equal partnership, and we determined early on to face outside adversity by standing closer together. And frankly, all opposition has been viewed as outside opposition.
Other than that, we had not a single clue. We never dreamed that we would have a child with cancer, or that John would need to leave his first job because of the dishonesty and jealousy of a colleague. We never dreamed we’d settle in New Hampshire, or that we would take our family repeatedly to live in Granada, Spain as part of his work. It has been up and down, sad and happy, hard and wondrous.
And we still never shut up.
Congratulations! I love hearing stories about how people met and looking back on their life together. Mike and I comment a lot that 15 years ago when we were youth together in the ward we never envisioned where we are now. It will be fun to see what other adventures we get thrown in the years to come. Thank you for sharing your experience.
ReplyDelete15 years ago, eh? Man, am I feeling old (as if 30 married years weren't enough all on their own . . .) You guys are the best! Who could have imagined how good it would be?
ReplyDeleteSo glad you talked yourselves into becoming one -- so that two years later we could meet you and have our lives enriched by you both!
ReplyDeleteAs Jen said in her tribute to you: "John and Linda" have become ONE word. We can't think of you NOT together! It is always wonderful to see such a synergistic relationship. We are fresh out of plutonium . . . but HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!
ReplyDelete--Ken
Wonderful. I know the impact you've had on at least one of your children, and on our family by default. You are truly a marvelous example of goodness. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteSo here's the deal. I still want to be like you when I grow-up. I admire and love the Chastons more than words. Congrats on 30 and onto eternity!
ReplyDelete