Category: Marriage Enrichment

Darling Sylvia,

I remember sitting in the truck at Lumberjack Park and talking for hours about who we were and what our future would be like.  We both understood that we were strong personalities.  We were sure we would love our way through the fact that we were both lead horses.  Some of our adult (21 year old) wisdom was right on the money.  One thing we missed in our in-love hormonal haze was that you were indeed a lead horse but I was really a jackass.

It took me another forty years to join the two phrases “I am sorry,” and  “I was wrong.“ During our years of marriage, there have been times when the we would have been better off if I could have said the couplet without choking.  In more recent years, I am trying to learn a second couplet, “Please forgive me“ and “What can I do to make it right?“  I still have some time to unlearn the old ways and learn new ways.  Let’s grow this marriage together.

Yours,   Eddie B.

Dear Eddie,
Thank you for our weekend road trip. I heard a woman say those words at the gym the other day, and I thought, “That is just what we need!” Our road trips are great! Sometimes, they have destinations; other times, we just go and see where we land. They may be short or long. Always, I enjoy the quiet “in the moment” time with you punctuated by the sharing of what we see and the remembering of past experiences. I continue to cherish moments with just you, looking ahead side by side.

An afternoon trip to see Grandpa and Aunt Nellie on the farm—big kids, a couple, away from the campus. The crystal palace of Minnehaha Falls. Eagles on the ice at Red Wing. Migrating birds at Point Pelee. Sandhills. Catfish heads on fence posts. Glacier lilies in the snow. And pink lady slippers. Ice fog on everything at Clingman’s Dome. “Oh, look-a Ruby-crowned Kinglet.” And, spring after spring, the red maples foretelling the redbud and dogwood to come. And, “Do you remember?” It is glue for you and me.

Thank you for staying in touch with me. When we are “caught up” on the “work” of life and marriage, we are free to enjoy revitalizing play together. Even when we do have some of that “work” talk to do on the road, it feels like teamwork instead of a chore.

Looking ahead side by side.

Let’s make time to road trip often.

Love, Sylvia

Darling Sylvia,

At 5:50 AM, I got up and let out the cat. I took my pills and put on the coffee.  I called to the kids to get up. Paper bowls, napkins, and three spoons were retrieved from their hiding places. Kid cereal, milk and orange drink were placed on the table, and I again called to the kids to get their butts out of bed. The kids were fed and out the door by 6:52.  At 7:05, I took Aryn’s hand in mine and led all three across the highway to the door of Ms Lisa’s bus.  At 7:08, I returned home and cuddled you down for an early morning nap. At 8:22, I petted Peter the cat, and you awoke.  We started another busy day of retirement (it’s not like what we had imagined). “Sunrise sunset, sunrise sunset, swiftly flow the years. One season following another, laiden with happiness and  tears.” You lay against me, your head on my shoulder.   You were asleep,  peaceful, and oh so beautiful.  Like Tevye,  I marveled that after all these years  you still love me, and I didn’t even have to ask you. There are tear tracks on my cheeks.  I’m allergic to cats.

Love you more than Nutter Butters,

Eddie B.

Darling Eddie:

I thank you from the bottom of my heart for a decision you made back in the seventies. You decided that it was important to place our marriage in a marriage friendly zone. You stepped up when many husbands would not have done so. For us, that decision first meant accepting an invitation to join in a marriage enrichment group. Later, your commitment and our joint value led to “working for better marriages, beginning with our own.” Because you said “yes,” and we continued to say “yes,” we live in the presence of a blessed cloud of witnesses.

Our cloud of witnesses is a precious resource for us. The cloud is made up of couples in the present and couples from other times who keep us in their hearts. They broke the marital taboo that says, “You made your bed; you sleep in it.” They shared their real marriage experiences, joys, sorrows, challenges, and fears, and allowed us to preview natural parts of the life we have lived and now live. Their long term view continues to give us hope. Whether physically or spiritually present, those couples make space for us to do our necessary work on the holy ground of their care.

The couples in our cloud tell us repeatedly that we are not the only people to have our kinds of experiences. They never make us feel stupid or awful. They never tell us what to do. They encourage us to speak for ourselves and to listen with our hearts. They encourage us to be intentional and challenge us to celebrate successes and to be gentle in our failures. They expect us to play and to nourish our marriage. The names and details would take pages. I appreciate them so much.

And, most of all, I am grateful for your “yes.” I am so happy you said “yes” to making our marriage a priority. I love you. Be my Valentine?

Sylvia

Darling Sylvia,

Last Monday, I had my second cataract removed. I had been told by a friend that after her surgery it was like living in high definition (HD). I am now a believer. The colors are incredible, glasses are gone, and I can once again read the fine print. I think clarity is the word I am searching for.

Looking ahead to the next year is part of our search for clarity as individuals and as a couple. It’s important to reflect on where we were and where we want to be. We celebrate our successes; mourn our losses, but, more importantly, plan for the coming year. We don’t always get what we want but we get much closer to our goals because we speak the words and listen to each other with our hearts. What do I want for me? What do you want for you? What do we want for us? What will we do in the next six months to a year to help get us where we want to go? It’s time to be intentional. It is time for a Marriage Growth Plan for this year.

Individually list, and then combine lists:
Three things you want for yourself

Three things you want for your mate

Three things you want for your marriage

Now, make a plan together knee to knee.
Include goals for short term (two week), mid term (6 month),long term (a year)

Include steps for each, and responsibilities for the steps.

Make dates to evaluate along the way. Put those dates on your calendars.

__________________________ ______________________
Sign, date, and seal with a kiss.

Dearest Sylvia,

I can remember when and where I stole my first kiss from you. It was 49 years ago in front of Newberry Hall after the Delt Sig hayride. You said, “I don’t kiss on the first date,” and I laughed and replied, “Well I do.” I remember your taste—peaches–and the warmth of your lips. I have never regretted that brash move. In this busy Christmas week, let’s try adding at least one one minute kiss into this week’s daily routine. I will let you count the seconds. Remember when we tried a one minute kiss in the Wyoming Snowy Range? We could not make a full 10 seconds without a breath. Some geology professor–I had forgotten about the effects of altitude on the oxygen content of air.

Mistletoe (Phoradendron leucarpum) is used as an excuse to kiss the special ones in our lives. Dr. Oz and the magazines are prescribing kissing as a way to wake up and energize marriages. My primary love language is touch, and I like the idea. We can cost the kisses out as a medical expense (exercising my new nose) on this year’s income tax. I take enjoyment of you as a wonderful gift intended by God for pleasure and for reaffirming our bond no matter how long we have been married. At this time of year, I have once again hung mistletoe in our kitchen doorway and on the front porch hoping to intercept you.

Love you,

Eddie Bert

Note to my granddaughters – Papa Eddie’s advice does not apply to you and, if any boy tries to steal a kiss, tell me immediately.

Note to Couple Friends –

Where was your first kiss?

Are there other memorable kisses?

Find some Mistletoe and make one.

Darling Sylvia,

 In the boys’ dormitory at 501 Ottawa Street, Grayling, Michigan, a manly nose which recorded a history of past events was a family trademark to be treasured. I was taught by Joe and Johnny that we were rugged ugly and that pain was to be endured with stoic manliness. Tears would only invoke ridicule. As a result, I shed no tears when I broke my nose during my freshman year of football or when my nose met Chris Kroll’s elbow in 1963 during a basketball scrimmage between the JVs (me) and the Varsity (him). Copious blood but no tears followed. My previous experience when Dr. Blaha packed my first break made me decide to reset my own. The resulting pain and lack of skill in setting it helped convince me that botany and geology rather than medicine would become my eventual career path. The upper reaches of my nose carried a reminder of Chris that resembled the old ski jump at Hanson’s Hills.

In the Grayling dorm, our bodies were not considered temples but fortresses. My fortress served me without a care until the arrival in the mail at the age of fifty of my invitation to join ARRP. That invitation marked the first cracks in the walls of my fortress. At that very moment of the hated junk mail’s arrival, the first symptoms appeared that indicated that benign bilateral enlargement of my prostate was occurring. At fifty-eight, a cardiac syncope and a pacemaker destroyed the drawbridge entering into my fortress. At sixty-two, a plunge from our lake cottage balcony resulted in a smashed hip. The entire north wall of the fortress began to crumble. At sixty-three, a hernia in my groin was repaired by a robot inserted of all places through my belly button. That breached the south wall of my fort. At sixty-eight, in response to a chronic rosacea infection, the sebaceous tissue under the skin of my nose proliferated into benign growths (rhinophyma) that changed my face into the winner of the Freddy Kruger look-alike contest. It became obvious to everyone, except me, that something needed to be done. You took action on my behalf. This morning, I looked in the mirror; I have a new nose. It is still a manly big nose but it lacks the ski jump at the top. The tip and nares were given shape as a gift of the extra cartilage from Chris’s elbow. I think it is the first time since 1963 that so much air has entered my lungs via my nose. Sylvia, in 1969 you heard the part of the marriage vows dealing with sickness and health. Thank you for taking them seriously. I never would have thought that my nose was included. Unlike the kid who got his two front teeth for Christmas, I got a new nose

Love you,
Eddie Bert

Dear Eddie—I’ve been thinking how we have relearned the practice of resting together. I get fried; we get fried. We need physical and emotional rest. I am so glad we can create a welcome island of peace for both of us.

You give me the gift of permission to rest. I don’t rest easily. There is always another load of laundry to fold, another meal or meeting to plan, another key to find. But you give me permission to stop; you remind me to give myself permission to rest with you. From our couple beginning, we found peace in physical contact; we remember our couches. We brought the reposo back from Italy. If a whole culture can rest in the afternoon, we can, too. Closing eyes snuggled with you in the hammock even for a short while is precious. When the alarm startles us awake to get the kids from the school bus, I am refreshed. I now find myself heading home from errands, making sure I am in time for reposo.

You give me the gift of preparation for rest. You keep in touch with me through frequent check-in conversations. We learned the importance of those conversations years ago. Thankfully, retirement provides more opportunities for them. We deal with the logistics of grandparenthood and the inevitable pinches in life before they ambush us when we don’t expect them. When we make a chance to rest with naps or play, my overactive mind is better prepared to actually rest.

I hope we get to enjoy resting together for a long while yet.

Love, Sylvia

Darling Sylvia,

On October 10, I celebrated 50 years of knowing you were in my world. On the dance floor of the Country Club of Detroit (the GPHS 50th Reunion), we danced the box social, the twist, the truck stop and everything in between. I love to watch you dance. Your joy radiates on your face and, oh darling, your body looks so good. You let me be your rooster, and I strut and preen knowing you are my hen. Not PC but I am so proud that you chose to be my trophy wife.

Like a dance, life with you has been very good. Sometimes, it has been like the twist very exciting and dangerous. Sometimes, we dance apart but always we know where the other is. Sometimes, it is like the box social, a coordination of being close and then apart but always in step; I am sorry for stepping on your toes. Sometimes, it is like the truck stop with your head resting on my shoulder and the curve of your body so close that I can feel the beating of your heart. I am so glad that you said yes when I asked you to dance.

Love,

Eddie

Darling Sylvia,  I celebrated Labor Day by taking our seven year old grandson in the truck for a boys-only adventure. We took our 10% off coupon to Lowe’s and purchased a steel cart for my Troy-Bilt mower. My jaw clenched when I discovered the cart was in a box which declared blithely “30 minutes assembly required.” I sensed  do-overs on the horizon.

It was readily apparent that the boy was really up for some quality put-it-together time. The kit included 380 nuts, bolts and lock washers. After three hours and lots of good man-to-man talk, I discovered that you and our five year old granddaughter had invaded our man cave. As we prepared to bolt the tail gate on to the cart assembly, you quietly said that perhaps the base of the cart was upside down. The two inch gap in the tail gate assembly indicated that you might have a point. Unlike my reactions in my thirties, after 50 years of loving you, I paused and said we would return to the job another time and do it right.

When our blow-ups occur and it gets hot in the kitchen we have learned to cool down and then say “I am sorry and please let’s have a do-over.” Thank you for teaching me that an occasional do-over (even redoing the thirty bolts on the garden cart) is a sign of strength in our relationship rather a sign of failure. I am grateful for the past do-overs and the ones I am sure I will need in the future.

Love,  Eddie Bert