Wednesday, September 30, 2015

     













     September 30th was my parents’ anniversary. They were married almost 50 years before cancer took my mother at age 73. I always feel an emotional tug from heaven to thank them for the gifts they gave me on this day.

    From my mother, I learned to walk tall in my stilettos, to dress like a lady, to decorate my home, to be a pioneer and step out of the stereotypical female role of her generation
as the submissive woman, to work for what I want and to enjoy a good martini. My mother was a career woman who excelled in her business at the expense of her motherhood, but she was rarely sad or depressed. She seemed to let things roll off her back. The greatest gift she gave me, however, was an excessive amount of energy which I have passed on to my daughters. My mother was a strong woman who endured a lot.

     My father defined self-discipline, a strong will to “be someone,” a silly sense of humor, a drive to excel beyond what’s expected, a creative imagination and a humble spirit. The greatest two gifts he gave me were the gift of music and the unstoppable drive to learn and take risks.  

     What they modeled in their marriage was having fun together. They ballroom danced, they sang and harmonized together, they traveled extensively, they built a new home in their late 60s and moved out of state, and they partied till they dropped. They bickered and made up. They showed pride in each other’s accomplishments, and they were both very successful in their careers. It was no perfect marriage, but I saw the good parts. To this day, I wish I could see my Dad whirl my mother around a dance floor to their song, “The Anniversary Waltz,”and clink their martini glasses.


    Happy Anniversary up there, you two.