by Jim Whitehouse
Having just celebrated a wedding anniversary that ended in a 5, it occurred to me that we give special credence to zeros and fives.
Sure, we tend to make a big deal out of 16 (drivers’ licenses) and 18 (voting) and 21 (booze), but it is those zeros and fives that really hit home.
“Hi, Robin, I heard it’s your birthday today,” says Ruben.
“Yes! I turned 26 today,” says Robin.
“Oh,” says Ruben, unimpressed.
“And I’ll be 25 in three more days,” says Raymond.
“Wow! Happy Birthday!” says Ruben.
Wedding anniversaries are even more pronounced in terms of our love of fives and zeros. Seriously, when did anyone ever have a big party to celebrate a 31st anniversary?
“We’ve been married 30 years,” says Annie.
“Great years,” says her husband Andy.
“Congratulations!” says Addie. “That’s a real accomplishment. What are you doing to celebrate?”
“We’re going on a cruise to the Bahamas,” say Annie and Andy in unison.
As for my beloved wife Marsha and me, we are fortunate to have married in a year ending in zero.
When someone asks how long we’ve been married, we can immediately do the math in our heads. No paper. No pencil. No calculator.
When talking to people who are engaged to be married, whether they ask for advice or not, I give them two bites of one of my not-so-famous sagacity cookies.
“First,” I say to my young friends Gary and Mary, hoping they notice my gray hair, “many people will tell you that a good marriage takes a lot of work. No.”
“No?” says Gary, thirsting for knowledge from a solid mentor.
“No. A bad marriage takes a lot of work. A good marriage is a lot of fun,” I say.
They look around for a better mentor, but as I always make sure I’m the only other person in the room before passing out wisdom, they are stuck with me.
“Second,” I say. “I know you want to get married next year, but I’d suggest you wait until 2030. It is so much easier to do the math when someone asks how long you’ve been married. That may seem like a small thing to you now, but later? You’ll be glad you took my advice.”
They walk away, silently agreeing to get married in 2026. I sigh.
I can see into the future. It is now 2043, and Mary and Gary are standing together at a pancake breakfast at the local American Legion hall. Their so-called friend Carrie is in line behind them.
“You two have an anniversary coming up, don’t you?” asks Carrie. “How many years?”
“Uh, well, uhm,– let me think,” says Gary, unwisely.
Mary unleashes a world-class stink eye that hits Gary squarely in the forehead. “Seventeen years,” she says. “Seventeen wonderful years, until right now.”
Carrie, a divorce lawyer, smiles and starts rubbing her hands together.
Yes. The very fabric of a wonderful marital union weakens and tears, all because Gary was never quick at arithmetic.
But the blame does not fall entirely on Gary. My advice to get married in a zero year was given to both to claim. What a shame. It’s not a game. Equal blame.
A good marriage is indeed a lot of fun, but only if you get married in a zero year.
