The year was 1984. That week in August, the number one hit on the radio (remember the radio?) was “Ghostbusters” (but, to be fair, Prince had more number one hits in 1984 than anyone else). Big hair was “in”. Paul was telling me people would have computers in their homes, and I said,
“What would anyone use a computer for at home?”
Nobody had cell phones, long distance phone calls were expensive, and e-mail was not a thing among ordinary people. For the past two years, Paul and I had been writing letters to each other during periods of separation. My Grandmother and I also wrote letters to each other. We used paper maps and trip-tiks for long journeys. The Michelin guides (green paper books) were indispensable for an overseas trip. Friends for ten years, Paul and I had mostly lived together for almost two years and had no intention of getting married. As we said to each other,
“We’re not religious, and the state has no business in our relationship.”
Then, on a road trip to Cape Cod, Paul said,
“Maybe we should get married. It would be nice to have a party.”
“Ok”, I said.
And with that, a wedding was planned. During that trip, I saw a gold band with one dark blue sapphire ring in a Cape Cod goldsmith’s window and said,
“I’d like that for my wedding ring.”
It cost more money than I ever imagined I would spend on anything. But we bought it, and asked them to make another one for Paul. I have worn it every day since.
We got married before a judge in Pike County, Indiana, and had a reception at my parents’ home called Twin Oaks, just outside of Oakland City, Indiana, where my mother was a Civil Rights lawyer and where I held my first legal job. I bought a dress for $23 at a department store (it had sleeves I didn’t like and no belt, so I removed the sleeves and made them into a belt). We made our invitations and favors, and relatives brought in food from Colonel Sanders’ homestyle restaurant named after Sanders' wife, Claudia, located in Shelbyville, Kentucky. A dear friend, Pat Thorne, made the wedding cake to match the colors in Georgia O’Keefe’s “Poppies” print, which was the card we used for the invitations. I had wanted it simple, because it was my second marriage (though Paul’s first).
As a wedding gift, Paul's family hosted a second reception in Chicago, so their family and friends could attend. It was at a Chinese restaurant and quite lovely.
And, now, here we are, 40 years later. Since we were married, we’ve lived in Noblesville & Indianapolis, Indiana, Dayton, Ohio, and East Lansing, Lansing, Fenton, and Okemos in Michigan. We raised two wonderful children who are all grown up leading happy lives with wonderful partners. A little over two years ago, we became full-time travelers. Our son married in 2018, and, in 2024, our daughter married in a beautiful ceremony in Louisville, Kentucky.
In mid-August, Paul and I took to the road in a Subaru Forester we bought in January (and which we plan to sell later this year) to explore the West. We rode across Michigan, Minnesota, South Dakota, and Montana to the mountains near Glacier National Park. There, we met our children and their partners for a 40th anniversary celebration.
I find that words fail me when I try to describe the simple joy of spending five days with our kids. They are fun, interesting, and enthusiastic. Everyone’s a good cook, and we took turns making meals for each other in an Airbnb in Coram, Montana. We had long talks. We visited Glacier National Park several times. There was a lot of love in that house.
The kids brought us gifts from the heart.
Probably my favorite moment was when the six of us saw mountain goats on a salt lick at dusk. It was magical.
Forty years really does go by in the blink of an eye. You lose people you care about, and who cared about you. They were a part of our 40-year journey.
We had fulfilling careers at a time when dual careers and raising kids was an unblazed pathway. We learned to break free of some of the gender roles we had been taught. When I went out of town for work, and came back to find Kate wearing unmatching polka dots and stripes when I picked her up from school, I let go of the “mothers must dress their children just so” acculturation I had received. When our kids ditched their shoes in the car on road trips, Paul let go of a voice saying, “Shoes must be worn at all times outside of the house.” Yet, we chose to hang on to many of the lessons instilled by our elders and mentors. Paul was a careful custodian of our homes over the years, following his father’s lessons of quality maintenance and creative building. I held to the patient lessons encouraged by my Grandmother to sew, knit, crochet, and embroider, and continue to make my clothes while traveling on the road. My parents instilled in me a love of reading and writing, and Paul honed programming, design, and problem solving skills in his career. We both love philosophy, culture, and language.
I would be lying if I said 40 years with the same person has always been easy. We are both very strong personalities, each with our own baggage that we both grapple with. We have different triggers that do not always result in pleasantries. These past few years have been especially challenging, first starting during pandemic lock-down then full-time travel. We are together virtually all the time. At every stage of life, we continue to redefine our relationship, learning new things about the other along the way. We face medical challenges (Paul has been fighting to get psoriasis medication for almost a year and I have injured my knee). The “in sickness and health” line has gotten a lot of use lately. But every day we make a choice that there is no one else on Earth we would rather be with than each other. Our love is stronger than ever.
So many people have asked us what the secret to a successful 40-year marriage is. As we have said to each other many times, we don’t really have a clue. At Kate & Ben’s wedding, we gave a toast, and this is what we focused on:
Kim: I’d say, especially after the last few years of spending so much time together, I’ve learned a few things about enjoying a happy marriage. The first is to listen to my spouse the way I listened to him when we first met and I was hanging on every word. Because over time, you know this person as well as you know yourself. So maybe you stop listening some of the time. Maybe my own ego gets in the way of hearing what he is saying. I’ve been trying to really listen to his insights, and his opinions and his stories with fresh ears. It turns out he’s even more interesting now than he was when we met.
The second thing I’ve tried to do is lead with kindness. It’s so easy to become angry, or fearful, or hurt. Anyone who’s been in a long relationship knows that. But it is equally easy to lead with kindness, to make that your first response. If he’s grumpy, he’s probably having a bad day. Kindness begets kindness.
Paul: My advice is to try and take the long view and remember that you love each other and have your partner’s happiness in mind. When there is a bump in the road, try to concentrate on what you can control, yourself, and not another person.
If I am irritated with her it is important to discuss it, but only have this discussion once or twice. It is up to her to change or not change. I try to understand why I am bothered, and perhaps I could evolve. This is difficult in practice. If all else fails, I say to myself ‘She has many fine qualities’. Just a note from experience, it is cute to say it out loud once. After that, say it to yourself in your head and then concentrate on making your partner happy.
What do you think dear?
Kim: You have many fine qualities!
After our 40th celebration with our children, we said goodbye to our kids, and continued our journey with some friends. We’re currently in Denver, the two of us alone again. In the next couple of posts, I’ll write about this amazing journey in the Western U.S.
In the meantime, here's to a lot more good years ahead on this fantastic road trip we call marriage.
Paul & I made a mix tape (remember those) for our wedding reception in Oakland City. We spent a day listening to my Aunt Doll's vast collection of albums, focuing on jazz recordings. But we also interspersed every 25 minutes or so a recording on a single record (remember those?) of Stevie Wonder singing "You Are the Sunshine of My Life". The song spoke to us, because we had been friends for so many years before we became romantically involved (...I feel like this is the beginning, though I've loved you for a million years...."). I recorded the song on my ukelele. Because we've been on the road for over a month, I haven't had any time to practice voice or uke, but this is my best shot today.
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