40

Today is our 40th wedding anniversary.  I'm filled with gratitude for having had the opportunity to share so much of my life with Deborah.  The undeserved happiness it's given me, which a religious person might say was akin to the workings of divine grace, needed some spectacularly good fortune and some very amply rewarded work.  First, we had to meet, and at the right time.  We had to be willing and able to put up with each other's idiosyncrasies.  We had to make compromises, and changes, and commitments.  On a foundation of mutual respect and admiration, we built a mansion of many rooms, all filled with treasured memories.  No hurricane or earthquake in the form of a health or other personal tragedy has interrupted this construction project, and no such disaster could truly destroy what we had together.  Our greatest joys are our daughters, who (hey, kids, back me up here) have seen what Deborah and I mean to each other.  And every day occasions new revelations of how wonderful my dear wife is, so we're still making additions to that mansion.  (Next year, a glass house?)  Thank you, darling.  May we have many more anniversaries, and may they all be as joyous as this one.

The Friends and Family Plan

They say that to have friends, you have to be a friend.  Deborah has lots of friends.  Good friends, great people.  Old friends, new friends.  There are parents of kids our kids went to school with.  People Deborah went to school with.  Ex-coworkers.  Ex-neighbors.  Current neighbors.  Book club pals.  Exercise class pals.  Now they're all friends Deborah keeps up with.  It's no effort for her because she loves these people.  From what I can tell, they love her too.

She didn't choose her family (though I suppose I was a choice) as she chose her friends, but I know she loves us too.  She takes after her mother in this.  I don't know anyone who is more selflessly devoted to her kids than Esther, or who makes more of an effort (successful) to stay close to them.  It's a different model than my family followed; we didn't speak for many weeks at a time even when my parents were alive, and now I see my sister who lives a few hours away maybe once or twice a year, and talk to her maybe once every six weeks.  But we have better communication (thanks to Deborah) with Esther, Janet, David, Julia, Audrey, and our new additions Tom, Ros, and Keith, and it's great.

These relationships enrich us all.  I'm kind of along for the ride, and what a ride.  Thanks!

Love in the Time of Corona

Here's hoping that there comes a time when you read this and think, "Oh yeah, I believe I remember that virus thing."  Right now, it's pretty much the only thing on the news.  Thanks to our meatball President, we blew any chance we had to get on top of this pandemic, and by the time the Federal Government (that is, our Dear Leader) started taking it seriously, it's everywhere.  A week ago, we decided to cancel our flight to visit Audrey and Tom in Kansas City.  Today, we realize that it was not a good idea a month ago.

Well, as you know, Deborah loves her family, people in general, and travel.  This "social distancing" business is not her favorite thing.  (I, on the other hand, actually have the moral high ground being the hermit I always wanted to be.)  She did say today that if she had to be confined with just one person, I'd be the one she'd choose.  I feel good about that.

We're both healthy so far, but of course that can change at any time.  We have not isolated ourselves completely; maybe we're bad citizens.  I had an eye exam, and Deborah went to the dentist.  These visits weren't on a whim; they were overdue, and we decided to get them in while we could.  We go to the grocery, and we've gone to a place we bought bird food and to Home Depot.  Fortunately, we did not go to several optional outings/visits with friends; that would have been irresponsible.  Our anniversary trip to Vienna in seven or eight weeks is looking less and less likely to happen.

There's always the telephone, and the internet, and streaming entertainment.  Movie theaters, restaurants, hotels, bars, live performances--out of business for the foreseeable future.  Political events have been totally overshadowed.  May better times get here in not too long.  I'm afraid our concept of 'normal' is going to take a severe beating.

No Argument

When I read about marriages between people with radically opposed political views, like Mary Matalin / James Carville, George Conway / Kellyanne Conway, or Margaret Thatcher / Fidel Castro (those two crazy kids!), I wonder how it could possibly work.  Wouldn't they be arguing constantly?  How can they respect each other's values?

I don't have to worry about that.  Deborah has the correct political views on everything important.  I know they're correct because I have the same views.  The most recent example of this is our volunteering for Elizabeth Warren in the current primary season.  (Warren dropped out of the race, but thankfully only after sparing me from having to choose between Bernie Sanders and Joe Biden on a ballot.  For this I am deeply grateful to her.)  I'd have a very hard time sharing much time, let alone a life, with a committed Republican.  Deborah may be more tolerant, but she won't have to worry about me going over to the dark side.

We have very similar positions on religion as well:  we're straight-up nonbelievers. 

On the thousand and one decisions, big and small, that have to be made in life, we have frequently taken opposing positions.  We generally defer to the other person when we see that they care more.  For instance, Deborah wanted to buy a house before I was ready.  I saw that she was determined that this was what we should do (and she was right), so we did it.  She deferred to me about whether to stay and add on or move when we needed more space.  (I love our neighborhood.)  We alternate on choosing cars; she buys Subarus and I buy Hondas.

Money has never been a bone of contention (grrr!), partly because we both had decent incomes and no debts, but mostly because we have similar attitudes about it.  Once you have enough to live reasonably well for the foreseeable future, it's not worth worrying about getting or keeping more of it.  We don't crave luxuries.  Deborah likes traveling; I go along with the bother and expense without much comment.  We trust each other completely, so there was no need for separate bank accounts.

It took a while, but eventually Deborah impressed upon me the desirability of having standards of neatness and cleanliness higher than the ones I took into our marriage, and the need for my participation in maintaining those standards.  Now I actually look forward to Laundry Day (usually Sunday) and take pride in my dishwashing prowess.

As much as I like arguing online, I don't want to do it at home, and thankfully I never have the occasion to.

For Breakfast, I Ate a Dutch Baby

It was delicious.  Before you call the hotline for the International Criminal Court, I'm talking about:

My culinary knowledge is so rudimentary that my best description of a Dutch Baby is "fancy pancake."  Deborah could tell you exactly what it is, because she made it.  She makes a lot of meals and treats, and they're all great.  I doubt that many people outside of billionaires and royalty eat better than I do, and certainly not with less effort (on my part).  What I'm saying here is that Deborah loves to cook, and she's really good at it.  I hope she's recording her recipes and cooking tips for future reference.

When the kids were young, I had the early shift.  That is, I went to work early, while Deborah brought the kids to school/daycare; and I picked them up.  So I was home earlier, and thus it was natural to expect me to make dinner, at least some days.  Fortunately, kids are quite happy with Mrs Paul's Fish Sticks or macaroni and cheese from a box.  But everyone recognized that I was not well suited to food preparation.  Today, I grill things; that's pretty much it.  Deborah throws herself into making dinners, with enthusiasm.  She usually tweaks even the most acclaimed recipes in an attempt to make them more interesting, or just to find out how they taste.  She makes bread on a regular basis (sourdough usually, though I always lobby for focaccia).  She's delighted to be able to harvest herbs from our garden to add to her creations.

We're in a few social groups that call for the host(s) to prepare dinner.  I'm a total freeloader.  Other husbands make something, but Deborah does all the actual cooking for us.  (I do heat some things up on the grill.)  If she resents this, she has never indicated it.

Besides all this cooking for me and guests, Deborah spends a few hours a week at Miriam's Kitchen preparing food (or serving it in the dining hall) for their homeless clientele, as a sous-chef.  On behalf of everyone who benefits from your love of cooking, thank you, Deborah!

I would be remiss were I not to acknowledge the role of Esther (Deborah's mother) in instilling the "joy of cooking" in her.  Esther is an excellent cook and baker herself, and clearly enjoys making great food for others.  The tradition lives on, and I am grateful.

...She just keeps doing it.  This is from January 30, 2021:

A Poem

I Saw it on TV

I heard the news,

A plane flew into the World Trade Center.

In my mind an image--

Like something out of Airplane!–

The tail and wing of a plane 

Jut from the side of a tall building.

Could the passengers climb

Gingerly through the emergency exits

And into the building before the teetering plane dislodged?

I saw it on TV,

A huge fire ball bursting through the side of a building,

Clouds of debris billowing out.

The people were incinerated

I knew.

I heard the news,

A fire at the Pentagon.

Then on the screen, an image

of clouds of smoke behind the Executive Office Building.

Is it a fire on the Mall?

I raced to the window.

Down the Mall, past the river,

Huge clouds of smoke rising from the Pentagon,

Blowing to the east on a glorious, crystal clear day.

In my mind I knew death

Could rain down from the sky at any moment.

I saw it on TV,

Bodies hurtling down the side of an endless wall.

A massive cloud pouring between buildings

Overtaking fleeing people.

All my life I’ve seen it on TV.

Now I know

Sometimes it can’t be changed.

Where tall buildings once stood

Now gape empty holes on the skyline.

Where people once stood

Now gape empty holes in living hearts.

Deborah Wood, Sept. 13, 2001           

Where We Lived and What We Drove

(1978-79)  Our first apartment was on the 2nd floor above the dumpster in a high-rise, a half mile or so out Lee Highway from Rosslyn. We could walk to the subway, mostly on the abandoned railroad right of way.

(1979-81)  We rented a funky old frame house at 3501 N 17th St. It had a nice if unkempt yard, and a decent front porch. But it was cold in the winter--the kitchen was unheated, as it was in an enclosed porch--and it had no closets. There were two very small BRs and a full bath upstairs, a LR and DR down (besides that kitchen). The landlord (Mr. Biro) was a funny little guy but quite decent. The rent was $350/mo. We did a good bit of painting and some small repairs. There was an (extremely) unfinished basement in which we put a used washer and dryer and through which poor Chloe entered our lives. We married while living here.

(1981- )  We bought ($106,000) 4419 4th St So in July 1981 from the Elliots. Weird times for the economy: 8.5% $60k primary mortgage assumed, plus$30k second at 16.5% which we paid off in three years. First mtge refinanced twice, once for addition and once because rates went down. All mtges paid off by 2008. ¼ acre, spacious old wooden garage at the end of a long, wide blacktop driveway. Stone wall at sidewalk. Great front porch. Until we added on in 1991, it had 2 BR upstairs; after, 3 BRs upstairs and a much more spacious kitchen, and a family room in the back. Unfinished basement that is great for storage and laundry. I spent a lot of time on the yard, though to little good effect until after retirement, when I dug up the lawn and replaced it with raised beds and a perennial jungle. Patio in back, which we had to redo after the addition.

The neighbors are the big draw here. On our West when we moved in were Roy and Nellie Long. Roy had lived there since 1933; Nellie was his first cousin who he married after his wife died. To the East was Anne Noll, another longtime resident who moved away after a decade or so, but not before inspiring the annual Barcroft 4th of July parade, still going strong. (Deborah made a VHS tape of the first parade and sent it to Anne in Georgia; Anne died not long after.) Other neighbors were “Captain Al” Wood (still here in 2019!), Mr. Jones whose huge yard was an azalea nursery, and quite a few other older people who were dead or in nursing homes not long after we moved in. Now we’re the oldsters, except of course for Al. The Longs moved to Florida each winter (Nellie’s idea) and decided to stay for a couple years; their (not so) great nephew Jerry Long squatted next door for that period. What an asshole. The driveway was filled with cars from a towing business, there was an ill-behaved mistreated dog chained in the yard, and a roommate who was trouble. Roy and Nellie did move back, evicting Jerry; when Roy died, his son Bobby and wife Sylvia moved in, with daughter Sally until she moved out.

Bobby was a trip. Roy liked to talk, though his mental state meant I heard the same five or six stories a few dozen times each. But Bobby was the world champion in the talking department. I had to check through the window to make sure I could get to my car without being accosted and either blowing him off or having to listen to him for twenty minutes. Really nice guy, and Sylvia was great. When they moved out to live with Sally and her husband, they sold the place to Jenny, who we love, and not just because she has great cats. Dan lived there too for a while, then Jenny upgraded to Markham, who she married.

Anne Noll sold to a strange couple (Kolar Bowen and wife, who was the stranger one) we got along with, then they sold to Bob Alcorn and Paula Levin, fantastic neighbors whose three kids grew up here. Jenna has just graduated HS; Dahlia and Ian are still in school. The house across the street went through two families we didn’t get to know, plus our friend Dick Ives, who met and married the delightful Lauren Munro when he was living there. When they moved to Lake Barcroft a standoffish couple (Gwen and Eric) moved in for a couple years and they sold to Pusha (Paul) and Leslie Olkhovsky, whom we love. Their daughter Anna grew up there. Contemporaries of the Levin-Alcorns who moved in about the same time are Heather and Jim Sheire and Matt and Jennifer Swanston (in Jones’s old house). They had kids of the same ages as the Levin-Alcorns: Gannon and Gage Swanston and Kate and Ellie Sheire. It was a great situation for them, always at one another’s houses.

Other neighbors we had less interactions with: Larry, Sally, and Lew and Karen behind our property; Becky and son Skylar on the corner (where the execrable McKinney used to live before he died and his house was moved behind a house on George Mason); Regine and Sidane next to the Olkhovskys’; and too many more to mention.

_______________________________________________________________

When we started, we became a two-car household by virtue (?) of Deborah’s '69 Camaro, an old family car. That one didn't last terribly long, and I did not miss it. But we have been a two-car family ever since.

The Camaro was replaced by an 82 Subaru ($7000, no big complaints). The Honda rusted badly after 13 years and about 80,000 miles and I sold it to a friend for $5 who needed a car that ran, which this one did just fine, for another six months anyway. That was replaced by an 88 Subaru wagon for $12,000 (underpowered, and our first car with A/C). I never cared for it much, although it never did anything to earn my disfavor.

The older Subaru was replaced after 12 years by a 96 Plymouth Grand Voyager minivan ($23,000), mainly because our kids made every family trip a hell on wheels because they had to share a seat. They were thrilled by the van; the first day after we bought it they were out there first thing in the morning playing in it with their dolls. My wife and I were not so thrilled, as it suffered from numerous annoying and expensive problems with the doors, windows, and windshield wipers. But I have to admit that it was nice to be able to take the seats out and haul furniture, bikes, and stuff around. It was also our first automatic--and every car since has been one too.

The wagon got some serious problem or other and we dumped it for a 2000 Civic sedan ($14,000) which I loved almost as much as the earlier Civic. The van’s place in the driveway was taken by a 2006 Subaru Outback Ltd wagon (my wife's idea--I wanted an Accord). $23,500, and it has our first sunroof. The roof rack supports are great for the kayaks, and we like this car a lot. The van gave us 120,000 miles, farther than any previous car and in less time. It was donated to some unsuspecting charity, which despite the duct taped bumper fetched $900, according to the tax document they sent me. The 2000 Civic was given to Audrey in 2010, who used it to travel cross country with Hamish and then took it back to William and Mary. I sold it to a friend of hers for $20 to keep it “in the family”--the frisbee family, that is. It was still going strong a year later, at about 120k miles and 13 years.

It was replaced by a new 2010 Civic ($18k?), which is also treating us very well.

We replaced the blue 2006 Outback...with a blue 2019 Outback. It’s amazing how similar the cars are, except of course for the electronics. It’s a Limited, loaded, and cost $32k even out the door--but then we were upsold into the extended warranty (to 10 years) and service plan for another $3700, the first such warranty I’ve ever sprung for. We got 96k miles in 12 and a half years from the old Outback.

[Ed]  We gave the 2010 Honda to Audrey and Tom, since they both needed to commute to work, in October 2020, and since then have had just one car, after more than 40 years with two.