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Happy anniversary to The Boss (at Home) and advice to The Drummer

May 16, 2014 - Paul Giannamore
On a Friday, May 16, 1986, I left an apartment in Toronto, picked up a Chrysler Fifth Avenue at West End Motors (the only 1980s car I could borrow that would fit a 78-foot wedding gown) and drove to my parents’ house.

There, with my brother and sister strapping me down, I put on a tux, we all went to St. Anthony’s Church and I proceeded to sweating bullets. And I wore a set of Florsheims with the letters Y ME in masking tape put on the soles by my dad.

With a quick burst of rain right at the scheduled 4:30 p.m. scheduled start time, a bunch more sweating and the football-coach-like “Let’s do this!” from Father Walter Heinz, I headed out into the sanctuary, accompanied by friends but standing alone somehow, and married The Boss (at Home.)

That wasn’t her title then, but it surely became that over the years.

And, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because she puts up with a lot. I’m never exactly sure what it is that she sees or believes in me, but apparently there’s something there. And husbands are never allowed to know what that something is, lest they mess it up.

And, it’s good to have that life partner, though it surely is work sometimes.

I love telling my friends who are in double-digit wedding anniversaries that it’s good to be the weirdos of society. Because to stay married takes commitment most people seem to lack. It takes sacrifice. It takes the eventual realization that life is not all about you. Well, in my case, that was an eventual realization. Maybe some men get it earlier. But somehow, The Boss (at Home) through some combination of prayer, persuasive power and that look that wives get that says, “I’d kill you here and now but society prevents me from carrying out my wishes” managed to wait me out/mold me into an adult.

Mostly.

I say "mostly" because 1. I didn’t get flowers this year because I’m not sure how to have them delivered to her new office at FUS. 2. I still want a Mustang that I don’t need and we cannot afford.

If The Drummer and the (Future) Daughter-In-Law read this, I hope they can take what is probably the only wedding gift of value I can offer:

The journey you two will embark upon come this fall is fun and hard work beyond the toughest manual labor you have done. It’s all smiles and hand holding and wedding ceremonies and first residences. It’s the joys and tribulations of first jobs. It’s budget nightmares and never having enough money to do what you planned, absent inventing the next Microsoft Windows. It’s bad days and good days. Vacations and illness. It’s convincing one another that you have the stuff to be the best, and dealing with one another when you fall short. It actually also does involve pet peeves like putting the toilet paper on the roll wrong, leaving the toilet seat open and putting the forks on the wrong side of the drawer or not dusting the hardwoods when the dog is in full shedding mode. It’s new friends and the loss of old ones. It’s the joys and heartbreaks of parenting. It’s looking down the road and enjoying the present.

It’s life.

And it’s best shared. It’s knowing when to do or say something or when to just listen and be there.

After 28 years, I’m nowhere near perfect at this yet. I’d venture to say The Boss (at Home) would agree. About me not being perfect, that is.

But it’s a commitment that makes you a better person if you let it.

Enjoy the smiles and hand-holding stage but know when the work comes, and it will, the rewards are having someone who knows you better than anyone else, including yourself, to set you straight, make you laugh, make you see life differently, give you possibilities you’d never get on your own.

Happy anniversary to The Boss (at Home). Hardly seems like 28 years, but it is.

Good to be one of society’s weirdos for another year.

 
 

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