CONFESSIONS OF A HAPPILY MARRIED MAN essay

During the last century (when I was younger) I never thought of getting married. I was too busy playing Roy Rogers, Gene Autry or Tom Mix. Us boys were rough and tough, able to rescue damsels and bring home the bacon. Of course, at our age it was more like a piece of chewable tar, a tasty strip of timothy seed or a pocketful of hazel nuts.

I’ve since hefted a piece of tar from someone’s roof job several years ago, in an attempt to recapture the past. Aaagghhhh! And the Timothy seed was just as bad, almost choking me, when it got stuck in my throat. Even the hazel nut I mouthed challenged me to a tooth-cracking contest. I kept thinking about the possible need for a root canal, if I went any further. How I changed from then to now.

As I look back on my beginnings of married life, a parallel of incidents often took place. Yes, I was that cowboy seeking a mate, someone who would love me, help me raise a kindergarten of children, and I would stand nearby surveying my ranch, er, my brood. CHILDREN! Oops reality check, well they listened sometimes.

Good thing my wife was nearby. The little darlings wanted me for a buddy to play with and jump on. My spouse was the boss of the range, and the little ones only requested my vast knowledge hen it came time for them to test the waters. Dad, do you think mom would let us go swimming today? Or, Dad, do you want to take us for a drive, if mom lets?

The day I popped the marriage question was cold. It was a typical snowy, freezing and windy expression during the raging month of January 1975. My precious and I went ski-dooing at our friend’s farm, but my true intention was to head for a copse nearby, the perfect place to propose.

In spite of the weather I was determined to pop the question in the woods, well at least within the dozen or so birch and poplar straight and tall meager shelter even for the cows whenever they remembered this spot.

I could hear my wife-to-be (if she accepted) shivering, as she waited patiently. Finally down on my knees, I began… Yes, she said, before I could say anything further, now let’s go, I’m freezing. I managed to press my frozen lips against hers, then climbed one tree and carved our initials. (Never could find them on subsequent trips)

It wasn’t long before I learned to say No to the kids. Yes to going to the store, Yes to dancing with my lovely and No to the kids, again and again and again. Phew, they can be persistent. Life has been a roller coaster of fun, four children and five grandchildren later, in fact, thirty-four and a half years later, life remains wonderful and my love and I are still on our honeymoon.

Looking back over the litany of fun; traveling to Manitoulin Island on the gigantic Chee Chee Maun Ferry boat, trips to Atlantic Canada (eventually moving to Nova Scotia) and visits across this great country meant a store-house of memories. We survived through thick and thin, loss of jobs, children growing up and moving on, a stroke upon my health, and co-authoring three novels with my precious wife, Esther.

Yes, she is the wise one. She’s always managed our finances, and taught me many useful tidbits, such as how to sew on a button, make the bed, hang clothes on the line, cook eatable food, operate the dish-washer, clothes washer, dryer; and above all else my computer, which has allowed me a greater freedom in my writing.

I could go on and on. Oh yes, I almost forgot the best part. My wife is a great kisser. Yes, she surely is.

***

© 2009 Richard L. Provencher
All Rights Reserved