marriage

hold what ya got

March 2, 2025

My husband says something that drives me crazy.

Not the… please shut the cabinet door or would you please put your dirty socks away kind of crazy.

(Not that he does those things.)

(I’m just giving you examples.)

More of the… Sleeveless tshirt, backwards ballcap, and stern business voice on work calls kind of crazy.

That kind of crazy that gives me shivvers.

Handsome behind the wheel on a country drive…xoxo

At various crucial times around the farm, he says to me in his deepest, most controlled, most deliciously mellow voice, “Hold what ya got.”

And I almost can’t focus. I don’t know what it is exactly, but I love it, ha!

This past week he said it to me while we wrangled Scarletta Jones into our makeshift squeeze shoot to administer antibiotics. My job was to hold the rope against her strenuous objections and then apply whatever full body tension I could muster onto the steel gates to keep her still. Hold what ya got. He just utters the phrase calmly under his breath, without making eye contact, focused on his side of the task.

Earlier in the week and again yesterday, he said it to me many times while we worked together on our little greenhouse build. He has designed and purchased and organized all of it. Planned every step. He gives me useful-feeling tasks along the way, often amounting to lifting lumber to the sky while he measures some mysterious distance or holding two pieces together while me makes an angle just perfect.

Hold what ya got.

Then inwardly, to myself, Focus, girl!

There are innumerable examples of him casting this atomic spell on me. He’s been saying it for years, and I only recently intimated how it affects me. He doesn’t get it. But that makes it worse. Or better.

I suppose he’ll keep saying it forever. I hope he does.

And I absolutely will.
XOXOXO

the first 40 years are the hardest

August 1, 2024

ELOPE

On Friday, July 30, 1982, an incredible love story was written in stone. A 19 year old girl and a 24 year old boy skipped work and drove to Gainesville, Texas, to elope. They drove his brand new Ford F-150 pickup, his first ever new vehicle. The truck was brown with a cloth interior, the seats of which had recently- and dramatically- been peed on by the girl’s one year old daughter as soon as the baby was liberated from her diaper.

The boy wore jeans and a button up shirt, as was his custom. The girl wore a brown a-line skirt and a tan striped blouse. By midday they arrived at the Justice of the Peace, who himself was wearing jeans and boots. They finished the business of making their young love very official and drove promptly back to Oklahoma City. By 3 pm that same day, they were already back at the office supply store where they both worked and where, you might have guessed, they first met, just three months earlier. Despite their best efforts to keep this big decision a secret, the boy’s parents had easily guessed it. These two never missed work, you see, and their brief summer romance had been a whirlwind. Rex and Cathy became the Fridays. No one was surprised.

BUILD

Within their first year of marriage Rex and Cathy bought a piece of raw land in Choctaw, OK, which was then sparsely populated and largely undeveloped. They worked together with lots of help from family to clear the land and prepare the site for a house. They eventually built the house one length of lumber, one brick, and one appliance at a time, debt free. With one crucial exception, they stuck to their commitment to operate exclusively on cash, just chipping away at the plans, paycheck to paycheck, weekend to weekend. The exception was a loan early in the process from Ray Friday, Rex’s father, of two thousand dollars. It was to buy the land itself. He accepted monthly repayments of $100, and when the loan was fully satisfied he gifted the sum back to the kids. A windfall!

In this early chapter while they both worked full time jobs, raised baby Jen, and built their home, the Fridays lived in a trailer home first in a trailer park near Rex’s family and then on their own land. They had one other roommate, a kitchen mouse named Hercules.

The many family members who helped with construction were wildly skilled and experienced builders. They led the way in building in extra safety features and sound engineering. All these years since, Rex and Cathy have marveled at the house’s stubbornness against Oklahoma tornadoes and unusually efficient heating and cooling. Overbuilding was the way to go, even if it took extra time and effort.

In April of 1990, their long group project came to fruition. They had bought the land with a bit of borrowed cash but paid that off. Then they invested their paychecks slowly, spending at last count $25,000 to make their dream a reality. They furnished it with bare bones fixtures and were finally ready to move out of the trailer. Goodbye Hercules!

As they prepared to move, Rex told Cathy they could afford to buy exactly one large appliance for the kitchen, and she could choose either a dishwasher or a combination oven/stove. She wisely chose the dishwasher, noting in her brain that not only did she already own enough counter top appliances to make small meals happen but also that by November her Thanksgiving-loving husband would definitely want her to have a stove for preparing the feast. She was right. She ended that year with both appliances.

ADJUST

Married life was a big adjustment for both of these young people. Communal living among extended family in the trailer park meant more than a few surprise house guests for Cathy, though she did love them all. And Rex was accustomed to having his weekends free for hunting and fishing, which was a rub. Here, Cathy had expectations to be together as a family, especially on Sunday mornings. It took a while to strike a balance, but they did.

They encountered more specific friction, too. Like many couples, they had to navigate the choppy waters of money management, transparency, and control. And then there was the issue of hunting gear and little blonde haired babies.

Having never lived together before their elopement, Cathy was unpleasantly surprised to find their temporary home (Rex’s bachelor pad) was overflowing with not-baby-safe hunting and fishing gear. She discovered a gun rack full of guns, a compound bow already loaded with sharp arrows, a footlocker brimming with paper goods so that an overnight trip to the river was always an option, and much more. She took it upon herself to start removing the items that would be dangerous for Baby Jen. Rex was incensed. He strutted over to his Dad’s house to tell on her and gather some manly moral support along the lines of how dare she, only to learn that his Dad had a surprising perspective. He reminded his son that he had just married a woman with a baby and what did he expect then he suggested that Rex just “Suck it up.”

Since Baby Jen, cloth truck seats peed on and everything, had already won Rex’s heart fair and square, that adjustment quickly became family legend and not an obstacle at all.

Building a house wasn’t the only big project the Fridays tackled early in their marriage. Cathy had an ambition since childhood to be an accountant. Employing their already well proven sense of teamwork, she and Rex made it happen. They continued to work full time, shared the household and parental duties, and, again, paid cash for Cathy’s entire college experience. She completed the program at UCO one class at a time and had their families’ support and encouragement along the way. In fact Ray took some classes of his own during this time and walked the processional with Cathy when she received her diploma.

LEARN

It bears mentioning that Rex and Cathy credit all of their elders for a great many blessings in their marriage. “We had a lot of input!” Rex quips. Their parents and grandparents showed up over and over again. They provided practical, tangible help, certainly. They banded together and literally showed their boy and their girl how to build a house from the ground up. They modeled how to grow an expansive vegetable garden and graft fruit trees, how to sew and make repairs and maintain vehicles and preserve food, how to hunt and fish and cook excellent meals. You name it. The joke goes that Cathy’s Dad left his DNA on the bones of their house from so many small injuries inflicted during the build, ha! And to this day Cathy references her Grandma, as if she had just recently visited and shared some homemaking tips.

But perhaps more importantly than all of this, their elders taught their boy and their girl how to build a thriving union. Longevity in marriage runs in both families, as do strong Christian values. When Rex and Cathy reminisce, their eyes shine with love and appreciation for their mentors and guides. They clearly still feel the love of their extended family, even those already gone, and they know they are the beneficiaries of all their immense wisdom.

PRAY

A shared faith was important criteria for both of them before they married. They started off equally yoked in this way but young in God and had to give each other lots of space and time to grow. Along the way, life afforded them plenty opportunities to try their faith, strengthen it, and discover their gifts.

Forty two years later, Cathy describes her husband as the steady one, a man quick to respond to a moment of crisis by saying, “OK, here’s what we’re gonna do. Give me your hands. We’re gonna pray about it.” She adds, with shimmering eyes and a light shrug of her petite shoulders, “He’s the husband I need.”

When asked how he stays so calm and confident, Rex also shrugs but looks a little embarrassed. “It’s just there. God said the Holy Spirit is in you.”

Prayerful living helped them face numerous health challenges, extreme weather, job loss, and myriad financial problems. They recall a trip to Colorado when they had to replace tires unexpectedly. The $400 price tag was more than they could afford, but they had no choice. As soon as they got home, they discovered a surprise bonus from Rex’s job for exactly $400. They both say this kind of thing happened all the time.

No matter the obstacle or how scary the problem, Rex and Cathy said, “We just hit our knees and prayed about it.” In this agreement, they look into each other’s eyes, visibly wistful to scan their memories and feel, together, their safety. They had lean times, for sure, and even felt poor here and there. But they laugh about that and speak affectionately of summer sausages and clementines for their fancy hiking meal. “We never missed a meal or a payment.”

They are both servants at heart. They still attend Wilmont Baptist Church, the same place Rex has called home since he was a baby. They are active and emotionally invested in the community there, which this year celebrates its centennial anniversary! Over these four decades, Rex and Cathy have taught Sunday school, participated in Bible studies, helped with property maintenance, and played church-bench surrogate grandparents to countless kids. The children there flock to “Mr. Rex and Miss Cathy.” This summer, for the first time, the pair anted up to work as kitchen crew for a group of campers at Falls Creek. They made a thousand happy memories, collected many glowing reviews for their delicious food, and said they would definitely volunteer again. They came home absolutely exploding with stories about how much fun they had just watching the kids enjoy their playful summer and feel surrounded by God’s love.

ADVENTURE

With this strong foundation built, The Fridays were able to stack up years and years worth of adventure. Rex’s natural leaning toward the rugged outdoors and Cathy’s natural leaning toward her ruggedly handsome guy joined them at the hip for all kinds of fun.

“I just like being with him. I’m happiest when I’m with Rex, and that’s where he’s happy,” Cathy says playfully of her willingness to endure tent life.

It certainly helped this thrifty pair that Rex’s parents owned a small cabin in Colorado which served perfectly as home base for countless backpacking, rock climbing, and snow skiing trips.

Another advantage was that after securing her degree and CPA’s license, Cathy’s newly lucrative profession occasionally included paid travel. One such trip was to Ft. Lauderdale for a conference. Among all the top tier destinations they found over the years, Rex counts that trip among the best. It was his first time flying and his first time staying in a luxury resort. He was simmering in pride for his pretty young wife’s accomplishments, and to reward himself for marrying so well he feasted day and night on the all-you-can-eat soft serve ice cream. As Cathy tells it, Rex was the only hotel patron who brought his own fishing gear from home and trekked it through the marble floored lobby.

Always calling Choctaw home, the Fridays expanded their horizons way beyond Oklahoma, Colorado and Florida. In 1999, together with Rex’s brother Russ and his then wife Teresa, they earned their SCUBA certificates and used them in the Bahamas, for starters. On their first trip to St. John’s they caught and grilled fresh fish, swam with sharks, and developed new appreciation for well water at home after witnessing the offsite cistern water supply there.

In recent years they have shared their love of diving with their now sixteen year old grandson Jaxon, the apple of their eyes. The trio is known to visit the deepest lakes in Oklahoma to get in his dive hours when they can’t make it to the Caribbean.

During the pandemic shut down, Rex and Cathy bought kayaks and indulged in lots of quality time together on nearby water. Their default setting really is “outside and together” whenever possible.

COOPERATE

If you know Rex and Cathy personally, then you already appreciate their energetic influence, both as individuals and as a couple. Though honestly, it’s hard to imagine them as completely separate. They have created a beautiful rhythm, a way of bringing their full selves to the union that makes it greater than the sum of its parts. When asked how long it took to reach this kind of harmony, Rex answered in his classic deadpan tone, “Oh not too long. About forty years.”

While they stress the importance of having shared interests and doing most things together, Rex and Cathy do keep a few hobbies and travel ideas just for one person or the other. Big city destinations like NYC or even Eureka Springs are more Cathy’s speed, so she enjoys those trips with Jen, now grown, or her girlfriends. And while Rex can lure Cathy outdoors for lots of wilderness time, his appetite for it all is much greater than hers, so he carves out additional time on the calendar for hunting season, short fishing trips, and the like.

They seem to have arrived at this happy medium organically. Each person truly wants to see the other happy. They tied this understanding to household duties, too, and the division of labor, acknowledging that the seasons within a year can be very different, as can the seasons of life. You just remain fluid and respond to each other’s needs and fun ideas. As for the work, they don’t have strictly assigned duties. From year to year or week to week, they simply pitch in and do what they are best at. From the beginning they have been a solid team, and they know how to get it all done.

“It’s like you finally learn the steps to the dance,” Cathy says. “Early on you want to impress each other. It’s all so intense. Now it’s an easy flow. You really do become almost like one person.” Rex nods sweetly in agreement.

LAUGH

This positive, harmonious inertia, plus a hearty sense of humor, have proven to be super powers for this couple. Being able to laugh at themselves as well as at stressful situations has helped them stay happy and make excellent memories.

On a recent extreme hiking excursion in the backwaters between Minnesota and Canada, they were caught in a cold, torrential downpour. Everything was soaked or washing away. Rather than complain, they made it fun. Rex performed a fashion show of his forest-friendly rain gear, and Cathy videoed him, providing commentary.

Spend any amount of time with this pair and you will find yourself laughing until your stomach hurts. They know how to mine the moment for humor. They know how to squeeze joy out of every situation. And their smiles and laughter are contagious.

NURTURE

When they are not working hard or adventuring harder, their favorite date nights stay pretty simple. This has served them well. They like casual meals, specifically those that Cathy doesn’t have to cook, maybe swimming if their pool is open, and cuddling at home with their dogs, watching movies. They are both avid gardeners and super creative in their own ways. Rex grills steak like nobody else, Cathy could be a pastry chef, and they both put a premium on quality time. Cathy remembers plenty fancy outings to see a musical or an art show, which have been wonderful indulgences; but mostly she wants to be, “just curled up on a couch with him.”

They also devote plenty of energy to others. The Friday house is a frequent gathering spot for friends and family, especially around the holidays. They always pull out all the stops to make people feel extravagantly welcomed and cared for. Over the years Rex and Cathy have cultivated an understanding for what details make people feel loved, what makes them continue to come back for more despite the long drive to Choctaw, and how to create core memories.

After a tragic loss in Cathy’s family, they even served as caretakers for her brother’s young children. When they share memories from those years it is always with lightness and joy in their voices, a sense that it was all a gift to them, not a burden. They shared their richly textured life with their nieces and nephews as much as possible and now get to love on that generation’s young kids.

“Happiness is a choice you make. This is life. You can let it wear you down or you can find something to make you laugh and be happy.” They are neither blind to grief nor impervious to stress, but they have learned the importance of choosing their mindset.

When asked what makes each of them feel like they won the marriage lottery, Rex nods his head in thought and stretches comfortably in his chair. “When she talks ya’ up. When she talks good about you and always looks at the high side.” Cathy is smiling demurely at him while he answers. He adds, laughing, “Just hearing complaints about other spouses, ha!”

Her answer is not much different. She is nourished by words of affirmation and says how much she thrives on his compliments when she looks nice or when he expresses appreciation for anything she does. Cathy then gushes, “Rex can do so many things. It astounds me! So many skill sets. And he can calm me down.”

During most of this long conversation, it is worth noting, they answer questions while gazing at each other, exploring memory lane together, nearly oblivious to anyone else in the room asking the questions.

They know each other better than anyone else does and had a few thoughts on what they wish the outside world understood about their spouse.

Cathy says of Rex, “He’s really not so harsh or grumpy. He is such a good guy. Sometimes he comes across rough. I wish people could see the soft Rex, the way he is with kids.”

Rex believes Cathy is mostly an open book and that people probably do understand her. “I think they see her.” But he adds that he would like more people to know that she put herself through school and did it on her own (though she asserts it was a team effort). “She had ambition,” he stresses, still so proud of that big accomplishment all these years later.

SHARE

The Fridays benefitted so much from the loving surround of their families, and they accepted the guidance so willingly, it is no wonder that they feel the urge to now share that wisdom.

They both feel strongly that church should continue to be a priority in a marriage and that husband and wife should pray together. Cathy shared a memory of her grandpa’s Bible, so well read and worn out that it was held together with duct tape. They hope to share their deep and hard earned faith with the next generation.

They also hope to pass down a healthy sense of humor about life. Work hard but learn to laugh. “Be kind even when people are different. It costs zero dollars to be kind,” Cathy encourages.

Rex’s life experiences have been so greatly enriched by learning artisan crafts and skilled labor that he deeply wants kids in the next generation to learn to do more with their hands, and he takes every opportunity to share his knowledge. He hopes they choose to become more self reliant.

Some specific advice they share is to seek out friendships with other married couples, the happier the better. Be wise about friendships with single people as well as anyone who complains a lot. Rex observes, “Your friends… they can influence a lot around you.”

“There are going to be rough times. Learn to step away and cool off,” Cathy urges. Rex nods.

When asked what advice they would give their newlywed selves, Rex says, “Everything is going to be ok. Keep that hair you lost.”

And Cathy answers, “Money’s not everything. Sometimes the best memories are bologna sandwiches and peeing in a bucket!” Everyone laughs.

One final bit of advice which they share almost in unison: “Don’t be in such a hurry to get everything in life. Be happy. Learn to build slowly and pay with cash.”

DREAM

What’s next for this dynamic duo that skipped work on a Friday to elope, some forty two years ago? Well, Rex is one year deep in retirement now, and Cathy is counting the milliseconds until she can join him. Just three more tax seasons! They would consider another trip together to the backwaters near Canada (affectionately known at the BWCA) and will almost certainly take more tropical resort trips. In the mean time they are perfectly happy grilling steaks and taking their beloved dogs on walks, carving out family time, and laughing their heads off.

You will not find a harder working, more family-centered and devoted couple. You will not find another couple better balanced to each other or more chemically alive when they are in the same room. That is quite a bit of magic after forty years, and we wish them the happiest of anniversaries.

Why? Because they’ve EARNED THIS.*

Much love to you, friends.
The whoel world is better because of you.
XOXOXO

*inside joke lol

fifty years xoxoxo

October 25, 2023

Tomorrow my parents reach their Golden Anniversary. What a milestone! What an increasingly rare and beautiful thing.

((from when they renewed their vows in the Church))

Every year, it seems our age difference, already relatively small, shrinks a little more. Their nearness both to retirement and now this incredible moment in marriage are overwhelming to me. Joyful. Inspiring. Most of all, it’s humbling, because I know these fifty years have not been easy. Life itself has been hard won for them, and health and peace and family have been an ongoing art project for them together. Constantly evolving. Constantly responding to changes on the outside, changes on the inside.

I remember interviewing them, together with my youngest brother, for the Pandemic Stories project. Mom shared that she was prepared to give Dad his favorite meal (liver and onions) in case they were not going to survive. A last meal, allow me stress, like they were on Death Row. She was unbelievably stoic about this. And Dad said that the overall shut down proved to him that everyone is “an essential worker.” He expounded that the whole world operates on the premise that everyone’s contribution matters in a crucial way. They shared these two insights so matter of factly, so devoid of humor or sheen, that I thought, maybe for the first time in my life, that Joe and Alison are actual mortal people with unique world views.

So weird. I have always thought they were just Mom and Dad.

((Mom and Dad with Muddles, my replacement))

I try hard to look over these past fifty years to take an inventory of marital joys and sorrows and accomplishments, of highs and lows and favorite memories they might have, maybe also of worst fears they overcame together. I try, now knowing they are fully formed people, to see their individual evolution, their arcs. But even with my insider scoop I barely know their hearts. I only recently learned they are human, you see, so this is a new thought process.

Even with a limited perspective, there is so much available to admire. I see decades of efforts to be not just good neighbors but the best. Our house and back yard were exactly where the entire neighborhood wanted to be. Our front porch is where people felt safe and welcomed to stop by and talk or share a pizza if they were locked out. Mom has always gone out of her way to be friendly to everyone, even if they were not so friendly in return. We always had holiday decorations and pretty gardens and just general, simple hospitality.

I look back and see innumerable home improvements over time, most of which Dad did by himself or with help from one or two of his skilled brothers, everyone teaching themselves and each other as they went. I wish I could show you everything he has created over the years. Beautiful stuff. Same with Mom’s gardens. Lush and cheerful and ahead of her time with health and environmental concerns, just like Grandpa. And she grew everything on a shoestring.

((Thousands of prayers for these kids who are growing so fast…xoxo))

((Our Dad built this swing set for us when I was still in middle school. Now the little kids love it, and I bet they don’t even know that once I fell from and busted my head open and got stitches.))

I see all those holiday dinners and traditions that should have been impossible for so many reasons, but they are some of my happiest and most glittering memories. Easter baskets and new lacy dresses, hand dyed eggs, handmade Christmas stockings, evergreens from the Knights of Columbus tree lot, Advent candles and tray after tray of symbolic fruits and nuts. Private school for years. Music lessons and sports and so many clubs and proms and vehicles for five children. Good grief. And now grandkids! How they keep up with everyone is a mystery, but I do really like our group texts, ha!

When I reinterpret childhood memories from the perspective of a married woman, especially with my complicated story, I see that somehow Mom and Dad navigated in-law relationships like professional diplomats. Our house was like Switzerland, bright and neutral in the best ways. We fully loved every single person everywhere, never sensing hostility or competition or anything. They just made peace and warmth available to anyone who wanted to be part of it. And as a result, both sides of our big family mingled together very naturally. True, it might have helped that Mom and Dad essentially grew up together and therefore embraced each other’s families of origin and theirs, not his and hers. But still. People are people, and it is sometimes complicated. Just not with them. Mom and Dad both have ceaselessly shown us how to welcome everybody to the table, to the party, to the family. We have sure tried to follow this lead. We have not always done so perfectly; but the example stands, and the spirit inspires.

I look back and can easily count way more family traditions they helped us cultivate than couple traditions they held privately. Unless maybe they kept those to themselves? They did for a while have Christopher’s Steak House on their short list of date night destinations. It is a very real pleasure for me to now see them enjoying each other’s company so much. They have more time now, with fewer needy people circling their tired legs. Although something tells me they miss it a tiny bit?

I will get this wrong, but by my estimation Mom and Dad have cared for about eight dogs through the years, plus at least three cats that I remember. That has to be wrong; it feels like it should be a much higher number. We had parakeets briefly. Also one ferret that nobody remembers except me. That’s a whole thing. Do not get me started.

In fifty years, as far as I know, Dad has only driven two trucks. The original yellow Chevy was practically a family member. An ill- fated frog once got stuck inside it, in the hollow vertical steel frame behind the seat. I still get a pang of nostalgia if I see a similar Chevy truck in the wild. It is so irreplaceable that at this moment I could not, not for a million dollars, describe to you what he currently drives. We will pull up to a family event and I’ll say, “I wonder if Dad’s here yet,” and my husband will look at me like I’m nuts and say, “That’s his truck. It is right there.” Then I shrug. It’s like my brain refuses to accept this new vehicle. Same for Mom. I still think she drives that tan-with-blue-velvet-interior passenger van with seven hundred bench seats. That van was primo for class field trips and even better for family road trips to Florida during which I could lure my little sister into using permanent marker for eyeliner.

Industry comes to mind. Reflecting on all the many jobs our parents have held over the years, I am awed at all the skills they have learned and humbled by their unrelenting work ethic. From offices to food service and retail, accounting, warehouses, lumber yards (when I was four I thought Dad owned 84 Lumber in Texas), corporate property management and much more, they have carved and polished, built and repaired, constantly improved the world just by showing up to work. This doesn’t even cover Village Art Lamps, the family business they built together with our grandparents. It sustained not just our young family but hundreds of others, for almost my entire childhood. It is still bizarre to me that the building on south Walker is gone, but those amazing memories are forever. Nobody on earth can outwork my Dad. Nobody is more gracious and flexible, more accommodating, that my Mom. They outdo each other constantly with humility and humor.

In fifty years there have been so many storms and shifting seasons. How they have stayed sane through five children’s overlapping life crises is amazing. How they braved our adolescent years when they were barely healed from their own is an even greater one. Now, with the original five plus our expansion teams spinning in so many various orbits around the world, they must wake up every day and just take a panicky inventory of where all the pieces of their hearts are scattered. I hope that is more often a good feeling than a sad one. They deserve, more than anyone I know, to feel as happy as possible for as long as possible.

I recently had a heart to heart with a dear friend and was able to say, “I think it is rare that I have a great Mom and Dad. Nobody else seems to like theirs.” This has always been true, but what is even truer now is that I have my parents at all. None of us has to look very far from where we sit to see fatherless or motherless children, old and young. To have both of our parents not just alive but healthy and engaged and very interested in all of our ever-changing worlds, what a blessing. Things could have been so different. And it can always change in one phone call, so I love to savor it.

((Mom and Dad with our entire family, missing only three of the grand kids. Baby Connor was asleep and my two girls were back in Oklahoma. ))

((reunion summer 2023, we are growing again!!))

No doubt, there have been times they put on a happy face for everyone else’s benefit. And no doubt they have at times felt disappointed and hurt; maybe feeling like the return on their lifetime investment has come up a little short. I for one have been excruciatingly hard on them from time to time, before I learned they are human people just like me. I try to be nicer now, because being human I hard and they are doing great.

They have suffered plain old loss, too, like anyone. My Dad was just 32 when he lost his Mom and 43 when he lost his Dad. I had no concept in those years, how young this was. How rudderless a person might feel. I just missed my grandparents. I didn’t even think about my Dad missing his parents. Mom was 59 when Grandpa Stubbs passed, but we lost Grandma much earlier. Mom was just 38, and they were very close. These are momentous life changes that I really have not considered until recently.

The following is not mine to say, not really, but I’ll risk it: Vividly knowing all four of my grandparents’ personalities and living so happily as Joe and Alison’s firstborn, I feel like Rex & Mary Jo and Jack & Louise would all be so proud of all the intense parenting and grand parenting their children have done in the years since they left. From where I stand, all of my grandparents’ wonderful values live on, and they live on, and they live on. Because of my parents.

This past summer at a preemptive anniversary party while the whole crew was in Oklahoma, we all played the Newlywed Game. Mom and Dad sat up front, each with a small white board. We all took turns firing a wide variety of questions at them then had lots of fun watching them compare their answers. Turns out they know each other pretty dang well. One exchange sticks out. Someone asked, “If money were no object, where would you go for your fiftieth anniversary?” Mom’s answer was, “An Alaskan cruise!” Dad, being Dad, literally wrote a list of about 9 places around the globe, ha! He said placidly, “You said money was no object.” We exploded in laughter, but now just typing this I feel like crying. We all have had so many opportunities to see the world, and they have happily forfeited most of theirs for us.

One of my most vivid hopes in life is that they soon reach a moment where they will not just retire comfortably but also pursue fully some of the cravings and impulses they have quieted for five decades. Their lives have been about everyone else for so long. I hope they can put themselves first more, and soon. We all do.

The older I get, the more I realize that I joke around the most when I am in pain, and being a lot like my Dad in other ways (casual compliment to myself there) I wonder if this is true for him, too. If so, then he has been in pain for most of his life but never said so outright. This familial language of teasing and taunting has made our character fabric a little more like good denim than silk, which is fine by me. Better, actually. But I do hope he is ok. And I am amazed by how many years he has managed to keep pushing through family emergencies and health scares and financial roller coasters and splintered relationships, all the time just speed walking, whistling, power napping, and throwing zingers.

Having a young Mom is wonderful, and as I mentioned, the older we both get, the closer in age we feel. But there is a downside. When I was in middle school I had a crush on a boy who lived down the street from us. He was several years older than me and had a crush on Mom, who by his estimation was not much older than him. She had Farrah Fawcett hair right when Farrah Fawcett hair was the coolest thing on the planet, and she was a beautiful, energetic young woman who made everyone feel welcome. So that was wildly annoying. I am pretty sure he gave up, got his braces removed, and joined the military. Other than that, having young parents is the best, from the child’s perspective.

It is obvious to me that they both chose this path consciously, not just once before I was born, but repeatedly since then, when Ego or Ambition or Exhaustion, or some raging social norm, might have veered them way off course, getting them to pursue other goals or lifestyles. Both Mom and Dad could have pursued and achieved anything else with their life, but we are all so lucky that they have chosen, week after week and year after year after year, to devote themselves to their marriage and their family. It all sure did grow. That cute little wedding in October of 1973 sure did firm up into an establishment. An acorn into an oak tree.

Happy fiftieth wedding anniversary, Mom and Dad. We are all forever in your debt. And we love you so much!

XOXOXOXO

martha and henry

September 12, 2023

A funny song from my childhood has become a pretty good descriptor of two-person farm maintenance. Usually it’s still funny; sometimes it makes me, us, feel one half step away from crazy.

It’s a sing-songy conversation between husband and wife as they navigate never ending tasks:

“There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Martha dear Martha, there’s a hole in the bucket, dear Martha, a hole.
Well fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, well fix it dear Henry, dear Henry fix it.
With what shall I fix it, dear Martha?
…
With a cork, dear Henry…
The cork is dry, dear Martha…
Well wet it, dear Henry…
With what shall I wet it, dear Martha?
With water! (her rage building)…
How shall I fetch it? …
With a bucket…
(extra long pause while Henry takes a deep breath, because we all know what’s coming)
There’s a hole in the bucket…”

So you see, of course, the never ending loop of repair and provision and discovery, and then repair and frustration and connection-between-all-things-broken and, again, discovery and repair. The ongoing consultation between husband and wife kills me.

Truthfully? I have always felt like Dear Martha was a bit cruel to her Dear Henry, with her exasperation at his inability to grasp obvious solutions, just as he seemed helpless and maybe vapid, not very manly traits to a girl who grew up with a Bob Vila Dad and then married Clark Griswold who is fond of chain-sawing all the newel posts.

After some years on these nine acres, though, I see Martha through a slightly more compassionate lens. She is just insane from all the never ending work, that’s all. She probably used to be a softer, sweeter, more helpful wife. The conveyor belt of projects that are never singular and independent of several other mandatory projects, well, they take their toll. That’s all. I also see Henry through a more protective lens. Maybe he always saw clearly the next five steps but was so overwhelmed he could barely speak it. All he could do was reach out to his Dear Martha and hope she would not kill the messenger.

In this house, for the song’s purposes, I am Henry and he is Martha.

Also, worth noting, for some weird reason, I remember being ten years old in Fort Towson, Oklahoma, and singing this song, imagining Martha and Henry living under water. All the way under water, like at the bottom of the ocean. In the blue-green dark. I get the symbolism now. Somehow, my little girl self knew.

One day I said to Handsome, hey babe let’s re-grout the upstairs bathroom. He said sure. I was probably ovulating, which bodes well for my powers of persuasion. That led to a full on shower stall redo in our master suite, which meant we needed to move our hygiene operations downstairs for a few days. This revealed some needed repair to that guest bath, and it seemed like a good time to also paint those walls and rearrange artwork and, sure, a new shower curtain and support bar and area rug. Also, man, we want a true piece of furniture in there, not rickety shelves, so let’s see what gorgeous sets we can find that would bring us some tables that look good with the leather couches. A month later, we have re-grouted the upstairs shower and do not recognize the formerly pink guest bath.

Similarly but much more dramatically, once upon a time something near our chimney was struck by lightning, which blah-blah-blah caused a serious water leak. It flooded our downstairs carpets and foam padded laminate flooring, inspiring us to rip it all up and live on concrete. Which we painted blue but did not seal. This caused a tidal wave (in keeping with the water theme) of interrelated projects, none of them small.

((walk through upon buying our farm, an unbelievable 16 years ago))

Then there was the time at the peak of summer heat and humidity when I needed one skinny little garden gate adjusted because it wasn’t shutting smoothly. Well, that turned into relocating a clothesline, reconfiguring the surrounding fences, eliminating one other wide gate, and, you know what? We need more concrete for parties.

New concrete means ripping up the decking, and that wood can be repurposed, so let’s sort it out into piles. Burn what is unusable. When the ashes are cool they go in the compost. But only once the compost bins have space. So empty those as soon as possible! And also make use of the contents, don’t waste it. Balance it all with green materials and manure, so it’s good for the gardens. Not pure ash. But if you add to the piles while the bachelors are watching, they will eat your okra so put up a protective rope or something. Quick.

And no, giving them a round bale of free choice hay will not, actually, keep them from breaking into the hay loft. So be ready to fix that gate soon.

Also, my sprinkler died (more with the water theme, in case you are keeping score).

Schedule some time for a pipe to burst in the attic (another score for the water gods). Because I secretly wanted the kitchen pantry a different color anyway, and this is an excellent time to repaint. But only after his stitches get removed from sitting on a power saw while making plumbing repairs. And, obviously, we can do all of this more easily once the pickup is working again, because we probably need something huge and unwieldy form Home Depot anyway. Or more hay. Or, something. It should work out just fine.

Babe, do we want goats?

Just fix it, Dear Henry, Dear Henry.
Just fix it, Dear Henry, Dear Henry fix it.

Whatever type of property you manage, I am confident you experience your own version of the hole in the bucket song, and I sincerely hope that most of the time you, together with your corresponding Martha or Henry, find ways to tackle it all. Peacefully.

Hang in there.
Please be kind to the messengers in your life.
Say no to goats.
XOXOXO

another year, a thousand more love notes

July 14, 2023

Twenty two years! Handsome is off work for a nice stretch while we celebrate our anniversary, and we are hitting the reset button HARD. Last night, just two days deep into the appointed retreat, we both commented on how much better we already feel. It seems like we have been “off” for much longer, and that is a luscious feeling.

I have been reflecting on these many milestones in our life and on the pillars or qualities that seem to uphold them. Every marriage is unique. I love to look around at our friends and family and see the different ways people thrive. It’s beautiful. It all inspires and challenges me. So what follows is not meant as a how-to or should-be post. I am very aware that what works for us may spell disaster for another couple, ha!

One thing I see is that while some couples start with the machinery or on-paper compatibility of the two people then build up their chemistry (like an arranged marriage or people who meet on a compatibility app), others do exactly the opposite (maybe they start with how they feel around each other then see what they can do to survive). We are in the latter camp. We started with chemistry and have discovered and worked on the machinery of really good living along the way.

We kind of launched straight into the deep end with big, choppy waves. Now we are at such a smooth operating level that it almost feels like we planned it this way.

We absolutely did not, ha!

We have just loved each other on purpose and lived with intention as often as possible. For us, the chemistry has made it fun and possible. The machinery and structure have built up steadily over time, with lots and lots of mistakes and restarts along the way.

How wonderful that grace and time have been on our side. That Love has been here all along.

Again, I have no idea which approach is better, easier, longer lasting, more fun, more sensible, etc… I don’t even think that is answerable. Life seems to offer up infinite ways to be happy and fulfilled! I would never say to anyone or any couple that their approach is wrong. I will just say that for us, our approach has been rich with lessons and deeply textured memories. Our love story has been messy, chaotic, restful, growth oriented, fun, wild, sweet, hilarious, bitter, scary, and sweet again. As so many poems and love songs declare, I would not trade any of it because it all brought us to this moment.

One day soon I will share an experience we had last winter in our friend Dr. Kelly Roberts’ college classroom. We sat for her students so they could practice a therapy modality that kind of visually maps your family tree and shared history. It was fascinating. And a great way to reflect on how you are operating as a couple.

Another note on seeing how other couples thrive and build their happiness: I do heartily endorse surrounding your marriage with a variety of personalities and histories, but yes, the happier and livelier the better. We create environments for our relationships, you know? Our relationships breath in the air we give them, feed on the nutrients available. And gosh I want ours to be well fed. I want ours to be energized for longevity and vitality. Chosen friends do this. Solid family marriages do this. Whether brand new or well aged, all kinds of unions can lend to the environments that feed us. I think it’s wise to keep an eye on this ever shifting part of life.

When we renewed our vows two summers ago, we repeated the original promises then each made new ones. We did not orchestrate it ahead of time.

“The best is yet to come,” summer 2021…xoxo

Handsome promised to continue surprising me, which he certainly does all the time. He always has. Since the very beginning of our love story, he has surprised me with huge and momentary gifts. What’s interesting is that once he promised to do that, I started noticing more. For these past two years I have been paying better attention and can see the effort he makes to be full of surprises. It’s pretty magical, to see such a hard working, analytical, foundation-and-fortress kind of guy make such an effort to also be full of surprises. Of course, this necessarily means lots and lots and lots of jump scares and screams. But. I’ll take it.

My new promise at our twentieth vow renewal was to stop seeing him as my competition and to embrace him as my teammate, which has meant I have had to show as his teammate more. Back to fortifying the machinery, you know? Friends, let me tell you, this has been a steep climb for me, but also of course a source of serious growth and great joy. He is a hard act to follow, and our God given gifts are very different. Trying to match his every step and measuring myself against his unique contributions was keeping me in a state of frustration and staleness. It took a series of reminders and lessons about individuality for me to really get that we are different people and are meant to contribute differently to our shared life. Anyway. That is a work in progress but is going well.

Just a little encouragement, to take a deep breath and dive into whatever area of your relationship you feel you could improve upon. I will write more, soon, on the immense value of strength-based harmony. This internal adjustment on my part has yielded lots of peace and smoother waters for us. It also seems to afford him more space for surprises, which is cool.

These are good changes.

But lots is the same twenty two years in.

We still write secret grievances throughout the year and read them to each other on New Year’s Day. We still have simple, regular weekly meals and several daily rituals that ground us and tether us, no matter what is happening outside the farm. Though church is not part of life right now, we still try to pray together regularly, holding hands and giving thanks for blessings big and small. We still cling to promises about our family and the future, still remind each other what is true and lasting. We still check in with each other about where we are headed, knowing that mindset matters. We still fiercely protect our time off together then dive into hospitality as often as possible. We still allow each other time and space to do the things we enjoy individually, like gardening and book discussions and car collecting and costumes, though we also help each other and participate in each other’s hobbies plenty.

We have gotten much better at resolving little conflicts and about directly addressing big ones.

As Jessica and Alex approach their second wedding anniversary, we are more aware than ever of how we might be modeling marriage. At the same time, because life is amazing, my parents are approaching their fiftieth wedding anniversary, and we are humbled by the scope of life and survival and the depth of love available to people.

Okay, friends. If you have made it this far, gold star, ha! Thank you for reading. I could write all day and all night about the beauty and intricacies of life with this man. I am so grateful for the ongoing adventure, for the ever increasing sense of safety, and for all the surprises. I could write volumes about the benefits of showing up as his teammate, not his competition. Mostly, I am just so happy that we get to continue writing our own love story. I hope you are writing yours, too.

Happy anniversary, Handsome.
I love you always, now and forever.
XOXOXO

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