Tonight, after a full day of working plus trying to piece the house back together, Bob and I finally collapsed on the couch to eat a crappy dinner and watch some even crappier tv. As usual, we ended up laughing about things as we discussed the day and some upcoming future plans. That's when I asked this question;
"Bob, did you ever think that after almost 48 years together, we'd be this happy and laughing so much?"
And his answer?
"Yes, I did."
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| How did I ever get so lucky? |
My parents had a very interesting life. They started out mad about each other, then later in life they were always mad at each other and finally, in the end, they were there for one another in all the ways that matter in a relationship. I understand them so much better now than I ever did before. I'm pretty proud of my folks for lots of reasons and I'm grateful for what they taught me just by living their lives.
My dad was a pretty tough kid growing up in Boyle Heights, California in the 1920's and '30s. At eight years old in 1928, he was selling newspapers on the corner to help his family survive. At the same time, my mother was seven years old living on a ranch with plenty of food and fun in Cayucos, California. They came from very different worlds in some ways. In others, they found common ground. My mother's parents were Swiss immigrants. My father's parents were Spanish immigrants. English was the second language for both my parents. They also both came from large families, my mother the youngest of fourteen and my dad the youngest of nine.
My dad and his brothers had a habit of getting into trouble. There are some pretty interesting stories about the Casas boys as kids. Eventually, at sixteen years old, my dad lied about his age and joined the Civilian Conservation Corps in 1936 along with his brother Louie. The CCC was part of President FDRs New Deal to put young men to work during the Great Depression. My dad and uncle were eventually shipped up to the Central Coast to work on some of the Missions and also to build stairs to the top of Morro Rock. It was during this time that they attended a Friday night dance at the Vets Hall in Cayucos. This is how my parents met.
Friday night dances at the Vets Hall were a popular weekly event for the local folks. Often, my Uncle Homer and his band would play. My mother loved to dance and rarely missed a Friday night in town with her family and friends. My mother was fifteen when my sixteen year old father sauntered into that first dance. Of course, being the outsiders, the CCC boys caught everyone's attention. My mom had the cold shoulder perfected even back then and that's what she offered my dad when he asked her to dance. Of course, my mother then went on to dance with several local boys keeping an eye on my dad the whole time. My dad, being a Boyle Heights city kid, ended up beating up some of those boys after the dance. Both my parents loved repeating this story throughout the decades with my father always proud of his Casas Crippler (the name he gave his fist) and my mother pretending to still be disgusted with him decades later.
After that night, they met every weekend in Cayucos. They shared friends, and adventures of the young and foolish. My mother said her dad hated "the Spaniard" but the rest of the family loved him. Eventually, my grandfather knew he couldn't win this war and he accepted my father, as much as a dad can accept the one that will take their daughter from them. My mother graduated highschool in 1939 and a year later, my parents married at nineteen and twenty years old.
Right before my dad proposed to my mother, they had gone on a double date. My mom always said it was a really nice evening out in Cambria. They had gone out to eat and then the fellas wanted to take the girls driving. There is a spot in Cambria that I have always loved. It's at the very top of a narrow road that takes you to the top of the hill where you'll find an old cemetery and church from the 1800's. This is exactly where my father drove that night. It is a lovely place in the daytime. At night, sitting on the top of the hill overlooking the town, surrounded by giant trees and wooden and granite headstones with no lights anywhere, yeah, no thank you. Anyway, the guys convinced the girls to get out of the car so they could walk around. Once they were out in the middle of the pitch black cemetery, my dad and his friend thought it would be funny to jump in the car and haul ass down the hill leaving the two girls alone up there. That night didn't end well for the fellas and my dad said he had to propose after that to make it right. I was always surprised my mother said yes because she was more of the "I will kill you" type of gal. Such is love.
In my mother's final years, I would tease her about the rough time she gave me for marrying so young. I told her she had been my example and I wasn't sorry I had followed in her footsteps. Usually, she'd tell me I was crazy and I could have done anything with my life and been anybody I wanted to be. I always told her, "I wanted to be you, Mom." That always made her smile. It also always made her repeat, "You're crazy." She wasn't wrong.
Tonight's Free Advice:
If you get married and you happen to have a fight with your husband, do not run home to your mother. If you do run home to your mother, do not tell her about the fight. If you do tell her about the fight, expect to hear, "Well, you picked him!" ringing in your ears every time you have a fight with your husband. For decades.
I'm going to be completely honest. I'm struggling this week. Every damn year it catches me off guard but subconsciously, I know it's coming. I can feel it, like some weird dark cloud off in the distance. Then, a few days before, WHAM! It all comes flooding back and I'm in that dead zone with my dead sister, all over again.
All day today, I kept trying to find a way to refocus but work was spinning out of control and Bob wasn't home from an overnight trip yet. Everything felt wrong today. I just couldn't focus. Until he walked in the door.
Bob changes everything for me. Just his presence calms me. We don't have to say much, we have learned how to just be when we're together. I suppose that's the way with long-time married folks. The lucky ones anyway. Who am I kidding? Luck has had nothing to do with our marriage. It's been work, the kind that produces blood, sweat and tears along with some really great moments along the way. It hasn't always been easy. It has always been worth it.
Well, look at that! Writing about something I'm grateful for has shifted my dark mood. Thanks Hansen. For everything. I love you.
