Forty Nine Years and Counting

We were married on July 3, 971, just a short year after we met.

We met at a housewarming. You know young folk take any excuse to have a party and that is what was happening. My girlfriend and I went to the party because we were helping a friend move into a new apartment. I met Tim there, and one of his buddies said, “Hey Tim, you should marry her. She’s the only girl here who is shorter than you.” That was July and we were engaged by September.

Yes, I know July 3rd – the day before the 4th! We’ve heard that a few times. When a person gets married they are saying they have hope. They have the opportunity to grow – to irritate and be irritated by the person they love, for the rest of their life. We think we go into marriage with our eyes wide open, but we all are blinded by love. – And that’s not a bad thing.

There is tenderness, kindness and passion, along with the ‘hangnails and hemorrhoids‘, I have dedicated all my love poems to Tim and they began early in our married life.

Here’s one of my favorite:

My Paramour

Allow me to caress your foot with mine.

Permit my leg to wrap around thine,

my hair to tickle your shoulder,

my head to rest upon your chest.

Consent to a kiss

from my lips to yours,

our hearts racing as one –

swift as the wind.

Tolerate my touch;

allow an hour or more –

the couch, the floor.

Concede to be my paramour.

by A. Gagliardi

I tease Tim, “Damn you, you’ve made me a baseball fan!” Baseball was never something I wanted to be involved with, but Tim is a fanatic and gradually over the years, I have become a fan as well. That’s one thing marriage does for folks – it expands their horizons. There is nothing as swell as sitting in the stands on a summer evening, sipping a cold beverage and enjoying the kick-back-watch-em-attack, or not-root-for-your-team time. Especially when you both want to be there.

We tried jogging together, cross-country skiing, tennis, camping and golf as well as being spectators at ballgames, but the only thing to stick is the ballgames. He stills golfs and we do a lot of walking/strolling around town, but we’ve slowed down from the jogging. That’s the other thing, you will change over the years, and your relationship changes as well. Now that we’ve retired, we can afford to give each other a little breathing room. We don’t have to rush into a new sport – yet we do need to keep active or face the consequence of becoming couch potatoes.

We have been so fortunate to afford vacations. Some were just a trip across town, or into the north to see relatives, but more recently we have been able to travel to Italy and then to Israel, both trips with our Priest and several others. What a way to grow and learn. And those experiences that we share – the fun, the sad, the exciting and surreal are all the moments that bind us to each other. A couple who wants to stay together need to find ways to share experiences together. Our core values were similar when we married, but that isn’t the only thing keeping us together.

I have never met a person as lucky as my husband. – Haha, and not because he married me. He finds money all over the place, in every state we’ve been in and in all the countries we have visited. So, finding coinage is a family game. Our children will call or text when they find a coin, or just come over and drop their prize in our hands. The following poem was printed in the Southwest Journal and is one of my favorite because of this quirkiness.

            They call to him

He spots their roundness yards away.

Whatever else he sees, I cannot say

but anyway, his gift dismays me.

He sees cold hard cash. He is one with them.

Yes. He detects coinage in all

their calibrated hiding places,                                                                                 

playing peek-a-boo  in the grasses,

sleeping along the edge of the road, nestled

amongst the fallen leaves,

peeping from the concrete lip

of the sidewalk as we stroll hand in hand.

He sees each and every one.

They call to him, ringing out their round sound.

Summoning, beckoning – exclaiming their presence. Pick me!

Pick me! They shout for him.

As a homing pigeon he spies their curvature

of green or darkest brown,

the coins not one other person has found.

They signal and he hears their ballooned sphere

hollow and muted, yet distinctively there.

He picks them up, caresses their continuity

         . . . and gives them all to me.

~Annette Gagliardi

* Published in the Southwest Journal in December of 2012

One of the things about marriage is that one is always considering their spouse-what do they like, what would they want to do, what don’t they like? so communication is an important part of being married. Women used to try to anticipate their husband’s needs. After 49 years, I still don’t know what he wants all the time, but I have some good guesses. Still, we communicate the important things and the rest . . . well, if he can’t tell me what he wants, what he’s thinking, I won’t know. Even when he irritates me, he’s still always on my mind.

After all these years, we still need to feel the love; we still need to know that we are in a loving relationship. Our faith has helped us learn and grow into more caring, less selfish people. And the journey continues.

There was a time 

There was a time when artist’s touch

Inspired the leaves to scent of musk.

When poet’s rhyme brought lover’s home

– inspired the couple’s love-sought poem.

There was a time when your embrace

Gave faint my heart to beat again;

When one soft look – a keen reply

– bought  love’s long ardor with one sigh.

There was a time when love’s desire

lay fast upon my lips.

When tender touch anticipated –

 yearned  for your embrace

But now, my love, ‘tis something new

as I long linger – gaze at you.

With artist’s eye and poet’s heart;

I still adore you, as the start.

                        ~ Annette Gagliardi