Mondays with Mike: Here’s to us

My dad danced with my wife on July 28, 1984.

Last Wednesday, Beth and I celebrated our 37^th wedding anniversary.

I used to think it was strange to celebrate lengthy anniversaries. I mean, just lasting? That’s a thing?

Turns out it kinda is. Not that I think people should stay together just to stay together. If they’re not happy, or worse, if they’re in an abusive relationship, they should not stick it out.

Speaking for myself,  37 years means I have been lucky. Lucky to have experienced how great it can be in the good times and use that to push through the tough parts of life together.

We’ve had some tough parts. Beth losing her sight, yeah, that’s still tough. Gus having a rare genetic disorder, that’s still tough.

But some of the toughest tough parts have been more garden variety. Money and how we do or don’t spend it. My hanging my jackets on the backs of chairs instead of hanging them up. And myriad other habits that grate on one another.

A big tough one—for both of us—has been my mental health. I pretty much have a handle on it, but realize in retrospect  that for years, it made things hard on me and Beth. Harder than they needed to be.

Which is all to say, from the outside it’s pretty obvious the ways I help Beth—our lives are just mechanically different than most people’s. What gets lost is how much she has helped me during our time together. Talking me off various ledges. Getting me to go easier on myself, and on others. Teaching me to appreciate goodness in general. Giving me a reason to try to be a better man.

Here’s to our 38^th.