Throwback Thursday: My Forever Boyfriend

I really should blog about Easter…and I will, soon.  But you see, I was scrolling through the pictures on my phone recently (all 15,000) of them, and I stopped dead in my tracks when I came across this one. Whoah. Be still my heart!  Pass the smelling salts!

Who is this handsome young devil, you ask?  It's my boyfriend, that's who.  That is, my husband of going-on-45 years.

This nostalgia-inducing photo was shared with us a few years ago by one of my husband's Naval aviator friends from the early days of our marriage (he is the one on the left, cropped out of the picture!).  I'm not even sure I'd ever seen it before that, and I don't remember exactly where it was taken, or when; but I do know that my husband was probably in his mid-to-late-20's here.  When he was 30, he got out of the Navy and began working for one of the major US airlines.  And the mustache (which so many of the Navy fighter pilots in our circle sported during the 1980's) had to go for his new job.  So he's definitely younger than 30 in this picture.

I fell in love with this face (minus the mustache) when he and I became boyfriend-and-girlfriend the summer after our freshman year in high school.  We were both just 15, a couple of babies.  But I knew pretty soon after we began going steady that this guy was the one for me.  

He was.  He is.  And he always will be.  He's my forever boyfriend.

P.S.  This was fun.  And you know what?  I think I'm going to start sharing my favorite oldie-but-goodie pictures every Thursday here at the blog.  :)

A Mother's Heart

I found this not-quite-ready post in my archives, and I decided to finish and publish it today.  Because I'm on a roll here!  I go silent for three months...and then, boom! Back-to-back posts.  You never know what you're going to get at this blog!

I have mentioned this before here at the blog, but I just love the writings of Elizabeth Foss.  She is a homeschooling mother of nine, a grandmother, a blogger, an author, and a well-known Catholic "influencer."  Just like I did, she married her high school boyfriend, so I feel a special kinship with her. She's about ten years younger than I and still has a couple of high-school aged daughters.  But otherwise, she's very much in the same phase of life that I am: her children are grown and gone (or in her case, all but the youngest two are); and therefore, like all of us women with grown children, her heart is repeatedly being torn, scarring over, and then tearing again.  Not to put too dramatic a spin on it...but it does happen. Luckily, the heart it a tough organ.  Especially when it’s a mother's heart.

Elizabeth Foss lived in VA for many years, until a relatively recent move to CT.  She still has a column in our diocesan newspaper here in VA, The Catholic Herald.  Hers is the one article that I never fail to read when we get this paper in the mail.  Foss’s piece from the June 13-16 edition was titled "Note to a grad's mom,"* and boy-oh-boy, could I relate.   It's been a while since our last Pearl family graduation (our youngest son was University of Notre Dame, Class of 2015), but the memories of those bittersweet endings are still fresh.

Yes, graduations are not just endings but also beginnings (it's an overused cliche because it's true).  And there is so much to be joyful about, watching your children spread their wings and fly.  But they fly away from you, you see.  And a mother's heart takes a beating when that happens.  It still beats, sure; but oh, it aches.  The pain can be excruciating at times.

That Catholic Herald column of Foss’s that I mentioned above was inspired by witnessing a mom crying on her husband's shoulder after their child's high school graduation ceremony and party.  Foss writes, "The words of encouragement out there for moms of graduates all focus on a job well done and they pivot to look to the opportunities to pursue their own dreams in an empty-nest future.  And of course, those should be addressed.  Raising a child is no small thing. You deserve a hearty pat on the back.  But most moms don't feel like doing a jig.  Instead, they feel like they ran out of time.  There is a nagging feeling that we have so much more we want to give to the grown child."  

Yes, yes, YES!  This is spot-on--which is par for the course when it comes to Elizabeth Foss's eloquently expressed insights on motherhood.  

She continues, "I think that mothering people in their 20s is the most challenging mothering of all...Those are the things no one says.  It's not all over.  Buckle up.  Here comes the wild ride for which everything leading up to this moment has just been preparation."  I would only amend that last quoted section to read "people in their 20s, 30s, and 40s," because I don't even have any children in their 20s anymore.  (What?!  When, and how, did that happen?!)

Foss addresses this topic again in a June 13 post on her blog, In the Heart of My Home. She writes:

As I watch younger moms juggle babies and toddlers and big kids and try to be all the things for all of them, I want to assure them that it gets easier.  But I can't.  

I don't.

Because I don't think it does get easier.  It gets different.  In a lot of ways, it gets more challenging.  It's as if all the challenges of the younger years are designed to get you fit for the ones to come.

I was talking to an older mom yesterday about the choice we make to be peaceful with the way things turned out or to be bitter.  For some people, it is easy to be at peace.  For others, the choice can be the crucible where holiness is forged.

"The crucible where holiness is forged."  Wow.  That is some powerful writing, my friends.  And something to ponder…even for an extraordinarily fortunate mom like me, whose life has been mostly peaceful, whose heaviest cross these days is having to miss beloved grown children (and their children) who live much too far away.  

Because no matter how hard we moms try to be "all the things for all of them," we don't know what the future will hold for our children when they become adults.  As they say, adulting is hard!  Life will throw them so many curveballs.  And seeing them worry or struggle or suffer, when you can no longer make it all better with a Band-Aid and a kiss, is so painful for a mother.  Yet such is life here in the promised Valley of Tears!  Without faith, how does anyone endure it all?

If you can make it through the Mother-Son dance at your boy’s wedding without tears,
you’re a better woman than I!  (This is my baby, son #5.)

Well, I suppose it's time to figure out a way to wrap this all up.   

In a nutshell: yes, it can be scary having all grown children.  Worries don't magically disappear once your kids graduate from diapers, braces, and college; instead, they seem to multiply.

But so do the joys.  Case in point: check out this picture taken in July of our five boys and the five girls whom they married, and with whom they are raising 22 precious children between them (so far!).  These are ten of my favorite people on earth.  And if I hadn't let my boys grow up and leave me, they never would have given me these five sweet daughters to love.

Aren't these kids adorable?  (Rhetorical question, of course.  There can be only one answer!)

And here are a few pics of that high school boyfriend and me, after 44 years of marriage.  I'm so glad we ended up together; those five beautiful couples above wouldn't even be here if we hadn't!  (There are hardly any pictures of us together taken during the years we were dating, from 1973 to our wedding in 1980, because it was a whole different world back then--before the age of digital photography and home computers--and people hardly ever had a camera with them unless it was a big event.  Having these shots of us by the lake at Oyster Haven is very special to me!)

Life is good today.  And every day that I can wake up and say that, I feel blessed.

*That's the print copy title; online, the article is called "Note to the mother of a graduate."

The Many Blessings of Our Life in VA

I have gotten to the point where I can't imagine not having made our big move to VA.  Back in 2016, when we were celebrating our last Christmas in the NH house where we'd raised our boys, it was somewhat heartbreaking imagining a different sort of home.  How could we be as happy anywhere else?  How could another house ever mean the same to us?  After all, we'd been in that one for 26 years and we'd put so much sweat equity (and love) into making it just right for us.  It was filled with wonderful memories.

But when we moved in early 2017, we knew that eventually, we would make many new memories down here.  And that this would become our home.

Well, that definitely happened.  Hoo boy, did it happen! I can no longer imagine what our life would be like if we didn't live here, near three of our five sons and their families.  Just this past week, look at all we would have missed.

On Tuesday, we went to the kindergarten graduation of four of our grandchildren.  Son #3's daughter (the middle child of his five) and son #4's triplets (two boys and a girl) had their end-of-year ceremony at their Catholic grade school, and my husband and I were there in attendance.

The kids were adorable, needless to say.  But I thought MY kids (the doting dads taking videos of their kids singing) were equally adorable.

Two of the triplets were classmates this past year (one of the boys and the girl); and one of the triplet boys was his cousin's classmate.  He excitedly pointed at her once, at pick-up time, and told his mom, "That's [her name]! I know her from school!"  True story.  They've been playmates and practically neighbors since infancy. Hilarious.

Classmates/cousins.

The Kindergarten Crew.

If we still lived in NH, I doubt we would have flown down for this occasion.  We would probably save those sorts of travels for major events, like First Holy Communions.  But being here, we can easily attend all the grandkids' special events, big and small.

Two days after the graduation, my husband and I started some home improvement projects for son #4 and his wife Braveheart.  They just bought a new house, and before they move their things in, they wanted to get some painting done.  My husband even got up on some super-high and quite terrifying scaffolding (while I took care of some things down low, where I could keep my feet firmly planted on terra firma.  #fearofheights).

Braveheart came by with all the kids while we were working, and I got this selfie with the youngest of their four (who calls herself an "honorary triplet").  People say she looks like me...but I'm not sure.  She does definitely look like her daddy at that age.

It's such a joy to see our boys living near enough to each other to be an integral part of each other's lives.

Son #3's hard-working wife Preciosa was the real estate agent who found this dream house for son #4's family and helped them negotiate the deal.  And she and son #3 decided to give son #4's family a generous housewarming gift: a trampoline for their awesome new back yard.  Because we live nearby, my husband was able to help his boy assemble it on Wednesday, and he and I were able to be there when the kids first discovered this amazing surprise gift from their aunt and uncle the next day.

I love this big-hearted boy.  And his dad.

Last night, after an exhausting day of painting, my best guy and I came home to our little VA doll house (although smaller than our NH house, it's really not all that small; but it's a sweet little place and I often think of it in those terms) and headed out to the patio on the side of our house.  We sat together on one of the bench gliders by the fire pit, sipping cocktails.  (You can have a date at your own house!  It's relaxing...and cheaper than going out!) We were sitting there talking about how as long as we were together, we could live pretty much anywhere; and how great it was that we could live here, where we can help some of our boys out and enjoy lots of time with them and their families. (We'd like to have all five living nearby; but we'll take what we can get!)

Today, I'm going to watch son #4's kiddos, so he and Braveheart can get a lot of packing done at their old house.  Again, this is something I probably wouldn't have been able to do if we hadn't made our big move.

Leaving that NH house was quite painful at first, and a real exercise in detachment from the things of this world; but we have been so extraordinarily blessed since the move.  Life is so good here.  

I give Mary, and the daily Rosaries we say to Her, all the credit.

  

Thank you, Mother!

Have a wonderful weekend, dear readers!

We're Still Havin' Fun, and He's Still the One

Well, it's been almost a month.  So I figured it was time to update this poor old neglected blog of mine!

I can hardly believe the summer is almost over!  The last time I was here, I was telling you all about our family vacation week at our Oyster Haven Vrbo house in early July.   Since then, my husband and I have been staying at his childhood home a few miles away from our place, going to daily Mass, visiting with relatives from both of our families who are still in the area, and working hard at Oyster Haven on Saturday turnover days (making up the beds, hauling dirty linens to the laundromat, etc.).  We try to spend as much time out on the boat as we can through the week--which hasn't been as much as we'd like, however, because it's been an unusually cold and rainy summer up here.  But we grab our opportunities when we can.

My husband and I both turned 65 this summer and got signed up for Medicare.  So there's that.  And he's now officially completely retired.  He took an early retirement package from his airline back in 2020, when most flights were being cancelled due to you-know-what; but now, there will be no more paychecks and frugal living has begun in earnest!

But there IS a bonus to getting old: if your Medicare plan has Silver Sneakers, that gets you into most gyms for free!  (My husband is at the gym right now, enjoying his free membership, but I'm sitting here blogging. What is wrong with this picture?!)

My husband and I also celebrated our 50th anniversary a few days ago.  Not our wedding anniversary.  The anniversary of the day he asked me to go steady with him back in 1973, when we were just a pair of bright-eyed 15-year-old kids.  Little did he know just how steady we were going to go!  (I wrote a post about this more than 10 years ago, if you're interested.)

I just ordered this sign to put up outside our rental property.  It's from an Etsy shop, and I tell you, Etsy is just the best.  You can find anything your little heart desires on there!

On Sunday, we will be heading to VA for a week.  Our triplet grandchildren are turning six soon, and we don't want to miss their big birthday celebration.  Plus, we've been away for a long time, and I need to reconnect with everyone there and spend a little time in my own house, with my own things about me.  (Mary Kate Danaher, anyone?  Do you recognize that line from The Quite Man, the best John Wayne movie ever?)

Hey...What just happened?!?!?

Ha ha--I've been gone for about 45 minutes now, because thinking about The Quiet Man and how much I absolutely love it got me going down all kinds of rabbit holes, watching YouTube interviews with Maureen O'Hara and John Wayne and clips from the movie...but I'm back.

Now where was I?

Well, I think perhaps the rest of this post will be a bit of a photo dump, with some shots I've taken that show what the lake life up here is like.  Not too shabby, readers.  Not too shabby at all.

50 years later, and there's still no one I'd rather go steady with.  As the song goes, we're still having' fun, and he's still the one.

I think my husband's cousin, who took this picture, used some sort of filter on it,
because we look kind of dewy-skinned.  But I'll take it.

Okay, well, hopefully I'll be back before too long.  Until then, I hope you are having a blessed summer!

Unsolicited Advice about Marriage

My husband and I are celebrating 42 years of wedded bliss today, so I thought it was a good day to talk about marriage.

The last thing I would ever deign to claim is that I'm an "expert" on anything--even on those vocations to which I've dedicated the majority of my 64-plus years on earth: wife, mother, and homemaker.  I don't pretend to have all the answers, and the last thing I would ever dare to do is give someone unsolicited advice about how to be happy and successful in those areas.

From summer 2016, taken in the yard at Oyster Haven.

I certainly don't know it all.  But as far as marriage goes, I just know what works for my husband and me.  We tied the knot on this date in 1980, and ever since we've enjoyed an extraordinarily happy marriage, with lots of crests and very few troughs; and although we sometimes disagree and might occasionally get a tad too impatient or grumpy when dealing with each other, we have never had a shouting match.  When I say never, I mean NEVER; no screaming and yelling, no throwing plates at each other (does that really ever happen, or is that just in the movies?), no storming away from each other with a slam of the door.  We don’t really even raise our voices at each other--that's just not the way we roll at all.

I believe that the secret to our happy marriage comes down to two simple sentences that my husband and I have uttered countless times over the years.

Me: "You're my hero."

Him: "That's all I've ever wanted to be."

Our words might come off as sappy and saccharine, and not at all serious, to the casual observer (and our funny boys will pretend to vomit if they hear them, because that's how they roll); but we are absolutely sincere when we say them.  He is my hero; he has spent our whole life together striving to be just that.  And I try to let him know how much I appreciate all that he does for me and our family, as often as I can.

We choose to look for only the good in each other, while accepting the flaws (because we all have them, don’t we?); we appreciate the gifts and strengths each of us brings to our union, instead of wasting time criticizing each other’s weaknesses.  We don’t comment on each other’s idiosyncrasies or try to change each other and then get frustrated when we realize we can’t.  We accept each other, and truly like each other.  We “get” each other, and we make each other laugh.  Every day, we try to honor those sacred vows we made back in 1980.  Good times and bad.  Sickness and health.  Richer or poorer.  Til death do us part.  

And every day, in little and big ways, my guy is my hero.

I’m convinced that if more men wanted to be heroes in their wives’ eyes, and more wives appreciated their efforts to do so, there would be a lot fewer divorces.  But maybe that’s just me.

You know, I'm not the best at giving advice.  I can't always find the right words to express what I'm thinking.   But this post by Leila Marie Lawler, over at Like Mother, Like Daughter is a must-read on the subject of marriage and understanding husbands and their unique role in the family.  It is so beautifully written, and gives such tremendously accurate advice on how to be happy in your marriage.  (Adopt the "I'd rather be happy than right" philosophy; it's liberating and leads to peace and contentment!)

Another insightful piece I read on the subject of marriage comes from one of my favorite Catholic writers (and one of the Instagram voices I miss most since deleting my account), Elizabeth Foss, who has a regular column in the Arlington Catholic Herald (our diocesan newspaper in VA).  An article that appeared there in August 2022 was titled, "Marry young?"  This part in particular struck me as profoundly true, and important to remember in this "let's put off marriage (but not necessarily living together) until everything is perfect" world we live in: "The world tells young couples to get all their ducks in a row, to delay until they are secure.  Life has taught me that the ducks never line up neatly and that security is only in faith, never in the tangible, touchable things of this world.  The most seemingly secure job one day can be over the next day.  The healthiest spouse on your wedding day can be battling cancer on your second anniversary.  I lived that story.  You don't get to write the script.  God does.  It's your job to improv along.  Who do you want to do that with and why are you waiting to get started?  Do you doubt that God will give you sufficient grace to do life together within the covenant of a sacramental marriage?  Are you putting limits on what God can do in favor of the security you think the world can offer?"

I'm so glad that my husband and I figured out when we were very young that we wanted to do life--improvising as we went along--together, and that we wanted to get started doing so as soon as we possibly could.  I realize that not everyone is lucky enough to meet the person with whom they will spend their life at 15, and then to be married at 22. But no matter what age you are, when you do meet that right person, don't wait until everything is “perfect” to begin your married life together.  It never will be perfect, for this earthly life is not paradise by a long shot, it’s the proverbial valley of tears; but at least if you take that leap of faith you'll have a partner to share whatever burdens you must carry here.  The main purpose of marriage is to help each other get to Heaven, and things that are really worth doing (and what it more worth doing than that?!) are never easy. 

But it doesn't have to be so hard if you take this unsolicited that advice I said I'd never give (you've been warned!): ladies, marry someone who wants to be your hero. And then make him feel like one. 

In Rome, spring 2019 (an early 40th anniversary trip!  Thank
goodness we thought to take it before the world shut down!).

At Notre Dame, his alma mater, in 2018.

It Seems Like Only Yesterday....

I started dating my husband in August of 1973, shortly after we’d both turned 15. He was an amazingly good skier.  He had almost made the US National team for his age group a few years before I’d met him, and he could have pursued the Olympic competition route if he hadn’t been more interested in having a more normal high school experience, where he could play seasonal sports.  During our high school years, he excelled in football and basketball, enjoying recreational skiing whenever he had the opportunity.

My husband’s family skied regularly at Whiteface Mountain, where they got a family pass every year. (Whiteface is home to an Olympic training site and was a venue for alpine skiing competitions during the 1932 and 1980 Games; the mountain is known for having the greatest vertical drop East of the Rockies.)  I had been skiing for a number of years, too, when I met him; however, I’d never been on any trails even close to as challenging as the ones he routinely conquered with ease at Whiteface and other ski resorts like it.  But once we started going out, I often went to Whiteface, which was about a 45-minute drive from our hometown, to ski with him, his dad, and his siblings.

A born teacher and coach, my new boyfriend spent hours with me that first winter, patiently giving advice on how to improve my technique and picking me up whenever I fell down and sat in a snow-covered heap, convinced that I’d never “get” it.  I often begged him to just go and ski with his family, because I was holding him back; but he never gave up on me.  And before that ski season ended, he'd made me confident enough to ride the chairlift to the very top with him.  I might not look as pretty as he did doing it, but because of all his help and encouragement, I could now handle the black diamonds at Whiteface—and trust me, they are extremely steep and intimidating!

All of that seems like only yesterday...and yet, it happened many, MANY years ago.

Last week, we took a long Sunday drive.  It was a glorious, sunny day.  We visited my dad’s grave, about a half-hour away, and then drove on another half-hour or so to the town where my husband’s mom grew up.  On the way, we passed that ski mountain that had played such a big role in our early courtship 49 years ago.

No one took as many pictures back then as they do today, in the age of the iPhone camera, and I don’t think there’s more than one, or perhaps two, of us together at Whiteface when we were young. So we figured we should pull over and take a selfie in front of it, for old times’ sake.

The guy who never gave up on me, thank goodness.

We did ski as often as we could with our boys for a number of years, before they got too busy with other sports (and lift tickets became prohibitively expensive!). Unfortunately, however, it’s been more than 10 years since either one of us has been on skis.  I’ve got osteoporosis now, so I’ll probably never get back on them again.  (One bad fall, and I could break a hip.  No thanks!)  So I sure am glad that I got to enjoy this exhilarating winter sport so often and so much when I had better bones.  

Life is short, dear readers, isn’t it?  It passes in an instant.  And one day you find yourself older than you ever thought you’d be, like me, looking back at things you did half a century ago and saying, “It seems like only yesterday...”

A Birthday Love Letter to My Boyfriend

Yes, I’m a married woman (it’s been 41 and 1/2 years now!).  So what’s up with title of this post?!

Well, you see, that’s the way I think of my husband, even all these years later.  He made my heart skip a beat every time I looked at him, way back when I was a 15-year-old girl in love for the first time.  And he still does.  He’s still the one.

Of all the choices I’ve made in my life, the best one, the most important one, was marrying him.  He has never, in all our years together, failed to put me first and do everything in his power to support and take care of me, to make me happy.  He treats me like a queen (as St. Paul instructed—you know, as Christ loved the Church), and always insisted that our boys do the same.  They all knew that the most surefire way to get in trouble with their dad would have been to speak disrespectfully to me; but honestly, they just didn’t do that. It wasn’t an issue.  They had an excellent role model and they followed his lead, and I’m not just putting on my rose-colored glasses when I say that my husband’s sons treated their mother like gold as boys—and if anything, they treat her even better now that they are men.

He’s one of a kind, my guy—a true family man in every possible sense of the word, the fearless leader of our string of Pearls. He always considered himself a husband and father first; airline pilot was just the job he had that made it possible for him to provide for his wife and sons. He prioritized time at home with his family, which enabled him to help coach his boys’ football and lacrosse teams from youth leagues through high school.  He’s funny, smart, hardworking, soft-hearted (yes, boys, underneath that tough disciplinarian who kept you on the straight and narrow lurked the heart of a big old marshmallow), loving, generous, ethical, faithful, and faith-filled, a talented carpenter and an all-around handy guy when it comes to household projects.  My worst day with him is better than my best day without him, to quote one of the country songs we heard at the Grand Ole Opry on our recent trip to Nashville.

Here is a post called Our Boys' Life Coach that I wrote way back in 2014.  It will give you an idea of the kind of man and father my husband is (and since his birthday falls on Father's Day this year, this will count as his "Happy Father's Day" shout-out as well!). 

I forgot to mention that he’s easy on the eyes.  And strong, too.  Every other day, he does 1,000 push-ups (20 a minute for 50 minutes).  Not too shabby for a 64-year-old, if I do say so. And I do!

My husband was obviously my inspiration for Grace Kelly’s high school crush in Finding Grace.  I mean, who else could be?  And her feelings for him?  All me. That character was not supposed to be like me; but her feelings for Tom Buckley were very much inspired by mine for MY real life love interest.  (Real life: better than fiction!)

In Chapter 10, here’s a peek inside Grace’s 14-year-old mind:: 

Grace couldn’t meet Tom’s eyes, as usual, so she directed her gaze at those arms of his.  He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and had his jacket slung over his shoulder...Grace could imagine those strong, golden arms around her, keeping her safe.  She could imagine them tenderly cradling their newborn baby.

“It’s official,” she thought, “I’ve lost my mind!”

Grace Kelly sure likes that handsome boy.  Everything about him, even his arms.

I get that!  I like everything about this man I married, my boyfriend for life.  On our trip to Iowa in May, I snapped this candid picture of him staring pensively out the window while holding our little sleeping granddaughter (#18 of our 19 grandchildren).

Be still my heart!  Here’s what 1,000 push-ups every other day produces, arm-wise: the world’s best baby-holding arms (like Grace Kelly imagined when she looked at Tom’s).  They used to hold our baby boys; now they hold our grandchildren.

Happy Birthday to my best friend and the love of my life.  My boyfriend.  ❤️

41 Years and Going Strong!

Forty-one years ago today, my husband and I were married on a bitter cold day in our hometown in Upstate NY, at his family's parish church (which was the one connected to the Catholic high school where we met as freshmen in 1972). We had begun dating at 15, in the summer of 1973, and were married seven years later.  We got engaged in December of 1979 while seniors in college, and chose to get married two days after Christmas the following year.  My husband was going to be starting flight school in the Navy shortly after graduation, and that was pretty much the only time he knew he would be able to get enough days off in a row to get married.

Some people told me that it was a bit selfish to put our families through a wedding during the busy holiday season, but it was either that or wait another whole year or more until he earned his wings.  At that point, we felt like we'd waited long enough to finally start our life together!  And I have to say, a Christmas wedding is so incredibly lovely.  The church is so beautifully decorated already that you don't have to spend a penny on flowers.  Our church was blooming with a profusion of poinsettias and bedecked with garlands of greenery. Wreaths were hung on every pillar, and right  behind us when we had our photos taken on the altar there was a glorious Nativity set.  I can't imagine a more perfect setting, personally, for getting married. 

Or a more perfect partner with whom to go through life. He is my rock.  He is my hero.  And I know that God chose him just for me.

Recently, I found a collage in my Google photos.  It had been made up with pictures of my guy and me without any input on my part.  The top middle photo is from one of my sisters-in-law's weddings in 1993; the rest are more recent, from the past five years or so.  There are a couple taken by our beloved lake in NY, a couple taken on trips to Rome, one in the stands at a Notre Dame football game, and a few from holiday celebrations. This collage managed to include some true highlights of our life together.   (I'm surprised, however, that Google only chose one with us holding a baby grandchild!)  I might have chosen other pictures if I'd made this collage myself, but I thought it was nice and would make a good anniversary tribute.

The Baltimore Catechism describes the purposes of marriage thus:

(1) To enable the husband and wife to aid each other in securing the salvation of their souls;

(2) To propagate or keep up the existence of the human race by bringing children into the world to serve God;

(3) To prevent sins against the holy virtue of purity by faithfully obeying the laws of the marriage state

What a gift a good marriage is.  As I said, I can't think of a better marriage partner (or a better father for my sons) than the guy I married.  If I do make it to Heaven, he will have most definitely helped me to get there. What an example he has been for me!  I can only hope that by the time my life here is over, I will have learned to live out my Faith with the kind of purpose and passion that he does.

Forty-one years in, and our family has grown by leaps and bounds.  Just a portion of us were together on Christmas Day, and look at how many dear souls are in this picture!  

That day, we had only 13 of our 17 grandchildren with us (Peanut, one of the triplets, escaped before the photo was taken, so if you count them up you'll only find 12!).

But the two soon-to-be-born grandchildren were also there.  Here are my sweet girls who are expecting in 2022, one in February and the other in April.

That 22-year-old bride in the first picture up there could never have imagined how big and beautiful her family would become. All I can say is IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE (my favorite Christmas movie, BTW).  And it all got started on this date in 1980.

7QT: Family, Favorites, Film, and a Sad Farewell

These Takes this Friday are going to be QUICK, I mean it.  (I can do quick if I put my mind to it!) It's been a busy week and it's not over yet.

Take 1

I've gotten behind on updating my "Sewing with Grammy" series.  A few weeks ago, the girls finished up some simple sundresses for their American Girl dolls (the only "pattern" needed was a sheet of computer paper!); unfortunately, I didn't remember to take pictures of those.  But this past Monday, they started sewing together squares for a small patchwork quilt for their baby sister, who will be joining the family in February.  Each girl is responsible for a row of three squares.  The twins (10) used the sewing machine for theirs, but the younger two (8 and 6) started stitching their seams up by hand.  It's impressive to see what tiny, neat stitches they can do--they almost look like machine stitches.  It's slow-going for them, but it's satisfying and they enjoy it.

 Take 2

This was a big birthday week for the Pearls.  First, Junior (the oldest of son #4's four boys) turned six.  He is the most enthusiastic kid, a huge (I mean HUGE) fan of both sides of his family tree.  I try to make birthday cakes for all the grandkids each year and decorate them according to their wishes or current passions.  An animal lover, Junior requested a zebra for his cake.

Junior's mom, our daughter-in-law Ginger, told us the sweetest story via text: Junior was very excited about every aspect of his birthday celebration; talking in the car with her a few days beforehand about his cake, he told her what a great baker I am and then added, "She is actually like a CHEF!" (Current favorite grandchild?)

Take 3

A few days later, our little Hermanita (the youngest of son #3's four) turned two.  She is crazy (I mean CRAZY!) about a show called "Cocomelon," and even if she hadn't requested a JJ cake, that's what I would have assumed she wanted.

This little cutie-pie has taken to answering almost every question with "Papa Grammy's house."  Here's another sweet story relayed to us via text, this time by our daughter-in-law Preciosa: The other day Hermanita was licking a lollipop and her mom told her it looked delicious.  Then Preciosa asked her what flavor it was and Hermanita's reply was "Papa Grammy's house!" (Now the current favorite grandchild?  Sorry, Junior! But don't worry; it changes just about hourly, as it did for your dad and his brothers.)

Take 4

On the same day that we celebrated Hermanita's birthday, we visited Junior's school for a moving Veteran's Day Mass/assembly/brunch celebration. His Papa, a former Naval aviator, was Junior's special guest for the event.  My husband now has a "brick" on the wall and will be a part of the Veteran's Day display in the hallway of Junior's Catholic elementary school for as many years as he and his brothers are students there.

Take 5

This guy.

My favorite husband, dad, grandfather, former Naval aviator and airline pilot, and all-around human.  (He never has to worry about losing or sharing that spot, like his boys and their children.  It's a permanent status.)

Take 6

We really don't have favorites, I hope you realize that!  The big joke when our boys were growing up was that they were constantly vying for and earning the favorite spot.  But it was truly a five-way tie.  With the grandkids, we've currently got 17 (soon to be 19) favorites.  (This subject has come up now and then here at the blog over the years; here is one post, and here's another that you could check out, in case these takes are so quick that you need more reading to do. Sorry, you probably didn't know there would be homework when you came here--LOL!)

Take 7

Our youngest son was an Army officer for six years and is currently getting a graduate degree in fine arts.  He is learning all about film production--screenwriting, filming, editing, etc.  This has been a passion of his since he was a young boy, enthralled by the movie magic of Jurassic Park.  I mean, just to give you an idea of how far back this goes, for career day in 3rd grade he went as a movie director.

Son #5 started a blog a few years back to post movie reviews.  He hasn't had the time to update it in a while, and I just tried to click on it but it appears to have disappeared. (Son?  Where did your blog go?)  This boy of ours writes extraordinarily well (said his proud mom), especially when he's doing in-depth analysis on his favorite art form.

 

And on that note, I think this post is a wrap.

I had just typed this up and then headed over to Kelly's to read her post, and I saw that the 7QT link-up at This Ain't the Lyceum has been shut down.  7QT is a wrap, too.  It had a good run, just like blogging.   And I was too late; I didn't get around to doing a post last week and missed the boat on linking up that last time.  :( 

But even though hardly anyone reads or writes blogs anymore, I think I'll keep at it--if only to record family memories for posterity, before my mind starts to go!

Retirement Life

My husband always hoped to retire early from his job as a commercial airline pilot.  His original plan was to stop working at 57, in 2015, when the youngest of our five sons graduated from college.  God (and the airline he worked for) had other plans, however: when his company had to file for bankruptcy in 2005, it meant a painful pay cut for him and loss of his pension, and he realized that in all likelihood, he was now looking at working until mandatory retirement at age 65.

We have been among the luckiest, though, and we know it; his airline bounced back and he was steadily employed there for 32 years.  He was never furloughed (although there were a few times during his flying career where that possibility looked imminent and we were ready to sell our house and downsize if we had to--thankfully, we never did). But as I said, we were among the lucky ones.  It was not always a perfect job, but it was a very good one.  It afforded us the opportunity to give all of our sons a K-12 Catholic education, and for me to be a full-time SAHM and tend to the home fires while he traveled around the world, sacrificing much-cherished time at home with his beloved family in order to support us.

His early retirement in September of 2020 came about as a direct result of the Covid-19 pandemic.  That black cloud--with all the storms it stirred up in its wake--had an unexpected silver lining for us.

My favorite pilot and all-around favorite human, who had been flying almost exclusively to Tel Aviv in recent years, bid Rome trips for February of 2020 and was thrilled when he got them.  In his decades of international travel, Rome was far and away his favorite city in Europe.  We had taken a week-long vacation-of-a-lifetime to bella Roma in March of 2019; now, he hoped that I would be able to accompany him on at least one or two of his five working trips that month--maybe more, if I could tear myself away from the grandkids.  I ended up going on two of them.  They were four-day trips, meaning one day to fly over, two days of layover, and another day to fly back.  Four-day trips are much better than the more common three-day trips for bringing along your spouse, because on those you have to cram your sightseeing into one layover day. 

Both of those bonus Rome trips were positively magical and provided me with memories that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

I almost didn't go on that second Rome trip.  It seemed almost decadent to me, jetting off to Italy every other week. My guy had to be in that cockpit, it was his job; I didn't have to be in a business class seat, drinking champagne, eating four-course meals, and watching movies--that just made me spoiled rotten!  And I've always been a bit of a white-knuckle flyer, there's that, too: I had mostly gotten over my fear, from years of frequent airplane trips to see my kids and grandkids; but now that we've settled in VA and so many of them live nearby, I rarely fly anywhere anymore.  I overcame my hesitation, however, and now I am so grateful that I did.  If I could have looked ahead and seen what was about to happen, I might have even tried to tag along with him on one or two more of those Rome trips.

That last month of getting to travel to his favorite city--and even to take me with him a couple of times--was a generous parting gift after a long and satisfying career...because after that, my husband's flying days ended without any fanfare whatsoever.  You all know what happened in March of 2020: lockdowns started, and all overseas flights were cancelled.  And then in April, flights were cancelled again. In May, same thing... My husband was still an employed pilot, but all of his trips were cancelled month after month, and he was at home with me.  We used his time off to do a big DIY project and finished off our basement.  Then in September of 2020, my husband took an early retirement package offered by his airline.  Fewer flights meant that they needed fewer pilots, and he decided to leave so that some less senior pilot might be able to keep his job.  He was ready.  He didn't quite make his original plan of retiring at 57; but he got to retire earlier than he had expected, at 62.

  

So we are officially in an entirely new phase of life.   And we're loving it.  He is one happy retiree, and though he enjoyed what he did for a living, he doesn't look back and he doesn't miss working.  There are some gray areas in our lives, but retirement is not one of them.  

The gray is mostly on our heads, and I'm really starting to catch up with my silver fox.

My advice to anyone out there who is currently in the childrearing phase is this: of course you and your spouse should center your life around making a happy and secure home for the children God gives you; but remember to put your marriage first, not your children. It seems selfish, but it is just the opposite.  If you do, your kids will benefit from it. A strong marriage is the healthiest thing you can give them. They will see what a sacramental union looks like and will strive to recreate it as adults, and then their children will benefit as well. And when your children are all grown and gone and have families of their own, you will not look at your spouse and say, "What do we do now?"  If you haven't put your relationship on the back burner for the decades you were raising your offspring, you will be as happy and fulfilled as ever in your empty nest, enjoying the fruits of your hard work over the years with the only other person on earth who really knows what you've been through to get where you are now--and the only other person on earth who can possibly love your children as much as you do.

Anyway, we're both loving the retirement life.  We're loving the Papa-and-Grammy life.  The only hard thing about the season we're in now is the realization that, um...we aren't exactly spring chickens anymore!  

HOWEVER--

Last week I celebrated my 63rd birthday.  And my kids surprised me with the greatest gift ever: a 20-minute YouTube video that they'd put together.  It started with little videotaped messages from all the grandkids and then all of our boys and their wives, and it moved on to hundreds of photos from my extraordinarily, undeservedly full and blessed life--from when I was a little girl right up until our recent family get-together at the lake.  It made me laugh out loud at times and cry at others.  It made me feel like the luckiest wife/mother/grandmother--the luckiest person!--on earth.  And it made me feel very loved indeed.

So retirement, and growing older...hey, it's not so bad. In fact, it's really quite good.