LoveHowTo Blog
The Magic Number: 37
When I got married, our commitment was not “till death do us part,” but for 37 years. We liked the uniqueness of this prime number and the implication that we could re-up or get out after a certain period of time. In retrospect, this probably wasn’t the healthiest idea, but it worked for us for a long time. It was handy to be able to say, “Only 22 more years of this!” to end an argument in laughter.
How did we arrive at that number? When we got engaged, I asked my Aunt Geri how she had survived so long in a marriage with a punster, since I knew I would be facing decades of groaners myself. Her response? A glance over at Uncle Ken and a drawn-out “Thirty-seven years!” Not really responsive, but I got the point: I’d just have to get used to it because that’s what I was getting into.
When I told my fiancé that story, he was startled. It turned out that his parents were married 37 years before divorcing. We agreed that if they could handle a commitment like that, so could we. Through the years we encountered the number 37 in offbeat places and always remarked that it was “our” number.
Well, we didn’t make it to 37. It had seemed so attainable – after all, his parents lasted that long and they hated each other! – but turned out to represent a really, really long time. We don’t even hate each other but we couldn’t do it.
My own parents divorced after 17 years, making my dad the only one of the four children in his family not to celebrate a 50th anniversary. Aunt Geri and Uncle Ken are on track for their 60th in 2010 and Aunt Janice and Uncle Tom have been married for 53 years.
Aunt Jeannie and Uncle Ned would have celebrated their 55th next month. They made the “till death do us part” commitment and were indeed parted by death last week, on the morning of a family reunion. Because the family was all gathered and because Uncle Ned was the ultimate family man, the reunion went on, as a tribute to him.
Uncle Ned was the family photographer and oversaw the production of a fantastic picture-packed calendar every year. He made sure special events were well-documented, but also captured the mundane: the card games, the practical jokes, the kids running around, the closeness of cousins just hanging out enjoying each others’ company. That calendar has arrived in the mail every year for as long as I can remember and has brought an already close family even closer together.
Despite the sadness of his death, Jean and Ned’s love story had a happy ending. Their five children and 11 children-in-law and grandchildren combine to form their own magic number, the “sensational 16.” He loved them all and they knew it and loved him just as much.
With Jean and Ned as my inspiration, next time around, I’ll make a commitment with no time constraints. Anticipating a way out doesn’t have to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, but it’s an approach that no longer works for me.
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