“41 and Counting…”

August 9 marked another milestone. Forty-one years ago, after dating four years and a 14-month engagement, my bride and I said “I do” to one another at about 1:20 p.m. at a church in the Chicago suburb of Lombard.

Thankfully the process leading up to the wedding day wasn’t nearly so hectic and costly as what many couples think they have to go through today. There was no expectation for an extravagant girls’ weekend where the bridal party partied away a small fortune. Nor a bachelor’s bash to “mourn” the demise of another single man’s “freedom.” Who came up with that silly stuff, anyway?

There was no guys’ party, but that didn’t stop the groomsmen from pulling a prank or two.

After the rehearsal dinner, we all retired to our respective hotel rooms so the groom could get a good night’s sleep to be well rested for the big day. That didn’t last. My best man and I shared a room, and when the knock came about 10:00, he jumped up to answer the door.

I knew I was toast.

In came the groomsmen. One had a pair of handcuffs, which were employed after my shirt was removed. Then just about everything else.

These great friends of mine, along with my brothers, then carried me out of the hotel to the back of my brother’s waiting pickup truck for a joyride through the western suburbs. Naturally, they left the tailgate down. At every stoplight, the car behind us shined its headlights right at me. Several drivers honked in glee at the spectacle of a handcuffed guy in significant state of undress. Sickos. Why didn’t anyone call the cops??

Eventually, my brother backed his truck to the door of a movie theater, hoping to treat exiting patrons to another show—this time a comedy…or tragedy, depending on one’s perspective. Ironically, two of the features playing on the big screens inside were Dressed to Kill and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Fortunately, the timing was off and the movies kept rolling.

The final destination along this tortuous route was the bride’s house. It was fast closing in on August 9 when the truck slowed to a crawl in front of my future in-laws’ house, horn blaring, and the guys yelling, “Happy Wedding!!” I could see my bride-to-be’s light on. Turns out she was packing for the honeymoon and heard when the passing party-on-wheels woke the neighborhood.

Well, the next day arrived, came and went with the intended hitch. The only glitch was my in-law’s air conditioning went out, and it was a typically hot and humid August day in the Midwest. My bride ended up getting ready at the church. Other than that, no problems.

OK, there was a bit of a hassle trying to leave for our honeymoon. All the gifts were taken to the in-laws home, and we wanted to open them before leaving. Of course, mom-in-law wanted to be there, and bride wanted her to be. Problem? They were still at the church cleaning up from the reception (fortunately, they lived across the street from the church!). Naturally, the groom was growing a bit impatient to get moving, so, yep, I went over to the church, grabbed a broom, and hurried things along.

All of which meant we left later than hoped for the three-hour drive ahead of us to Bettendorf, Iowa.

That brings up another major difference between 1980 and 2021—the honeymoon. It’s nothing to hear of exotic, expensive trips to far-off destinations like Aruba, Hawaii, or Tahiti…or perhaps a Caribbean cruise. We went to Bettendorf, Iowa for a couple nights, then another hour west to the Amana Colonies. The total budget—hotels, meals, admissions, souvenirs—wasn’t $800. In fact, the total hotel bills were under $225! And thankfully we got some cash as wedding gifts!

By the way, about 8 years ago, we began a tradition of doing a bicycle-riding excursion to celebrate our anniversary, covering a mile for each year of marriage. Wasn’t too big a deal for #34, but is a bit more challenging each year! A friend suggested getting one of these new electric bikes. Seems like cheating, but might be onto something.

We have a 41-mile bike ride to look forward to! Won’t be in Chicago, that’s for sure!

Now, when we got married, a 41-year marriage wasn’t so surprising. In fact, the following year, we helped my maternal grandparents celebrate their 50^th. Life-long marriages were the norm, even though the US Census Bureau reported the alarming fact that in 1975 the divorce rate had doubled since 1963. It went from 2.3 per 1000 to 4.8 per 1000. In other words, even though the divorce rate was climbing dramatically in the 70s and on into the 80s, the majority of us who got married in that era could look to the generation or two before us and see plenty of couples in their 60s, 70s, and 80s still married to the spouse they married in their late teens or early 20s!

Things are different now!

According to the US Census Bureau in 2010, the median duration for an American woman’s first marriage was 20.8 years. But a February, 2021 Bride’s magazine article reports that the typical US marriage that ends in divorce lasts just 8 years, and the percentage that do varies drastically by state. In Oklahoma, according to the article, 66.7% of marriages end in divorce; in Hawaii, only 20% do.

I’m not sure how such statistics are derived, nor will I argue for their accuracy. But I do know that when I tell people how long we’ve been married, the eyes get big, followed by a “Wow!” or “That’s incredible!” or some such exclamation of utter astonishment.

So, what’s the secret, right?

I’ll certainly not be exhaustive. Much more could be said, to be sure, but here are a few off-the-top-of-my-head ideas:

SO much more could be said. Entire books have been written on this subject. But these are just a few ideas that have helped me through the past four decades. And by God’s grace, we have several more bike rides in the years ahead!