I rarely post anything personal on social media, but the past two decades have been a study in endurance for me and my husband, Mike. Our 48th wedding anniversary is on the horizon. This “memory” is for him…
In the early 70s, my dad passed away on his way to work. He took a seat on the NYC subway train he rode every day and died. Just like that. No warning. No ceremony. He was gone.
The thought of living alone terrified my mother and, since I was divorcing my first husband, everyone - except me - seemed to think it would be a great idea if I moved in with her. She still lived in my childhood home in a neighborhood that practiced the "It takes a village" philosophy long before it became a popular book title and political rallying cry. I did not relish being the new topic of conversation among the parents of my childhood friends, but I really could not see a way out of my dilemma so home I went. Being Catholic, mom had memorial masses said every Sunday in the parish of my youth, and she expected my sister and me to attend.
At the very first mass, I looked across the church and, seated on the aisle, was a boy - now a man - I had gone to grammar school with many, many years before. He acknowledged me with the raising of his eyebrows and when mass was over, he went out of his way to find me among the exiting crowd. I could hear his footsteps echoing on the marble floors of the vestibule as he pushed his way to the front doors where I was shaking hands with Father Mark.
Joe and I talked for about an hour, trying to fit 10 years into 60 minutes. He was also getting divorced so we had horror stories to share and compare. It was not until Father Mark returned to lock the church doors that we realized we stood alone on the sidewalk.
"We should continue this conversation over dinner. " Joe said. "How about tomorrow night?"
I was nodding like one of those bobble head dolls before the invitation was fully out of his mouth.
Funny how life works. Joe was a good looking guy with a great sense of humor. He also had a well-known reputation for being a thief of hearts which did not keep me from imagining the possibilities that lay ahead. He picked me up promptly at 7:00 pm but, before heading off to the restaurant, he asked if I would mind if we stopped at his chiropractor's office so he could get a treatment. In those days, doctors actually had evening hours to accommodate their working patients.
We could not have been in the waiting room more than a few minutes when the inside door opened and in walked Mike who, in my opinion, was the epitome of every girl's dream -- tall, dark, handsome, polished, well-mannered, well-spoken and a smile that could melt an iceberg. I knew immediately that he was the real deal and not some imposter who would use his looks and position to add notches to his bedpost. Unfortunately, he was also Joe's best friend and, even more unfortunately, he was in a relationship.
The quiet dinner for two became a laugh riot dinner for three when Mike joined us. I remember thinking, "Why can't I meet a guy like this?" When I got home later that evening, I expressed those same sentiments to my mother, who offered this very profound statement, "If you want something badly enough, you will get it."
Joe and I and Mike and Joanne began double dating, but it always seemed that Mike and I talked more to each other than to our own dates. Since Mike also taught at the New York Institute of Technology on Long Island three days a week, he began driving me to my office in Manhattan. Sometimes, if his schedule would allow, he would meet me for lunch. Obviously, we felt a connection, but we kept our relationship strictly friends.
My initial infatuation with Joe was waning. The more I got to know him, the more I realized he had not moved much past an eighth grade mentality. One evening, the four of us attended a civic fundraiser together. We had a great time and, as the night drew to a close, Joanne and I headed off to the ladies room for that one last "go" before the car ride home. While freshening our makeup, she put her hand on my arm and said, "I am probably crazy to say this, but you and Mike belong together. Our relationship isn't what it used to be, so if he should ask you out, do not be a fool. Go." The moment was surreal. I remember a guilty feeling washing over me… the kind you might get if caught reading a stranger’s diary.
Well, Mike did ask me out and I did accept and the rest is history. Forty-eight years, two kids, three grandchildren, five houses and a revolving door of more pets than the Bronx zoo, he is still the center of my universe. We have literally seen each other through sickness and health and a very close call with “til death do us part.” We have aged together, not just biologically but emotionally as we endured the pain and suffering life has sometimes caused us and our children. When people ask me how it is that we have remained in love all these years, I always tell them, "You don't have to love somebody to like them, but you do have to like somebody to love them." Like is a powerful glue that makes love strong enough to withstand the most difficult of times.
Happy Anniversary, Mike. I “like” you more than you will ever know.
Donna Carbone is the Executive Director/Playwright in Residence at the Palm Beach Institute for the Entertainment Arts. Please visit PBIEA at: pbinstituteforentertainmentarts.com