Point of View
The routine of marriage is hard to shake
By Carl Heintze
Next month (June) we'll have been married 48 years. I've been contemplating this and other long marriages. That's because it seems to me there is a difference between being married and being married a long time.
(I take being married 48 years to be a long time. It is two years shy of that magic number 50, somewhere out in the misty land between 25 years and half a century, indeterminate, it's true, but still a long time.)
You can celebrate your wedding anniversary, even though it's not golden yet. You can celebrate it with some certainty that, if it isn't, it should be.
Besides my observations at this stage of life are not so much about us, but taken from friends, most of whom have or are about to celebrate 50 years of wedlock.
Marriage after that long a time is, well, is likely to last a lifetime for at least half the partnership. We know a few people who have been married for 50 years and then on the death of a spouse have married again. Not many, it's true, but some.
For them, it seems, after being married for half a century there is something wrong with not being married, as if one has lost an arm or a leg. They're seeking to be made whole again, to be restored to what they once were.
We have two couples of long-time married friends, now a widow and a widower, and they seem that way somehow--not complete.
We tend to think of them that way, still as a couple: Sam and Susan, Elaine and Ernie, even though Susan's gone and Ernie is no longer with us. And I think they believe themselves to be that way, too.
Marriage at around half century is more than being a couple, it's more than an institution, it's a way of living. By that time you've struck some kind of a balance in your relationship. Areas of effort and responsibility have been marked out.
You take out the trash automatically. She makes breakfast. You make lunch. She keeps the social calendar, you do the banking. Over the years you've fitted into these categories and you no longer have to ask about them, they are just assumed to be that way. Indeed, a change in this routine of life tends to unbalance the equation and bring about disorder, complaints and arguments.
There's another reason for this division of labor. There's just the two of you. The children are gone, if not forgotten. You're both retired and in one another's presence most of the day and night. "Getting along" is more important than deferring differences. Compromise makes for a more even course to life than conflict.
(Indeed, if conflict hasn't been resolved in half a century, it's not very likely that it ever will be.)
And difference gets resolved by negotiation and bartering: "OK, if you do that, then I'll do this, even though I don't want to."
In earlier days, conflict sometimes was resolved by sex, or by having a day out with "the boys" or "the girls." That's not so likely now. Sex is not as important as affection, true affection and concern.
The "boys" aren't likely to be able to weather a day away from home and if the "girls" get together it is for a quiet afternoon of bridge.
Besides, you're also lucky if one or the other of you does not have some chronic health problem. This makes for adjustment, too.
There are pills to remember, doctors to visit, perhaps even wheelchairs to be pushed. I hope this is not the case for you, but it is something which affects some marriages of long duration.
Then there's living space. Probably you've probably lived in the same house for a long time.
It's become a place well worn, but also well known. You can walk about it in the dark, without bumping into many things. You know where they are because you put them there and you resist moving them. If you did, somehow life would be askew.
You resist moving from this familiar territory, even though you sometimes seem to be swimming in too much space. But moving to a new location this late in life is a formidable task. We knew of several couples who contemplated it, a couple who have tried and one or two who have failed.
They ended up by staying where they were. The familiar was too good to lose.
I think the familiar is too good for any couple married for a half a century to lose. We have worn a path in the stone surface of life. We have tested and accepted the boundaries of cherished existence. We are happy. We are married.
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Saratoga, California Since 1955
