AA Gifts & Baskets Idea & Advice Blog

The essence of a successful marriage over time is the ability to share power. This requires that power be present on both sides, because if all the power belongs to one person, sharing is not really possible. Sharing power, then, requires planning. Each spouse must do what is necessary to obtain some power and then must be willing to share it.

Even if you are lucky enough to have a lasting, loving feeling, your marriage can fail if your lives are not arranged so each spouse has the maximum chance to respect the other and forgive their inevitable selfish behavior. When both spouses are allowed to make substantial contributions to the relationship, they have concrete reasons to respect, give space to, and forgive each other for their shortcomings.

I am not sure what really goes on in the development of today’s relationships between men and women, but thirty or forty years ago relationships were often one-sided and it required some vision of the future to provide for power sharing. The man made a living. The woman made a life. If the man was the center of the relationship in marriage, as was the custom and the woman’s role was to make the home, then her status and power in the relationship were precarious.

If the personalities were such that the husband was dependent upon the wife emotionally, or if she was smarter or more stable than he, then sharing power was more easily accomplished. Each needed the other and as long as nothing happened to disturb the relationship, a successful marriage was possible. However, if there was a glitch, the marriage collapsed because the man really had all the power and the wife’s power existed only as long as her husband valued her. She had no real power of her own. If her importance to him changed, the relationship changed. This subtle pressure on the wife tended to make her insecure because she constantly worried whether or not she was necessary.

In my marriage, the traditional way was not a reasonable way to proceed, for several reasons. I am too independent to rely on anyone very much and my wife is too insecure to be in such a tenuous power position and too talented to play a secondary role. Fortunately, we worked out a better arrangement than the one in general use thirty years ago.

I married, in my early twenties, a beautiful and intelligent twenty-year-old. She was the best person I had ever met, and so I married her, even though it was not a good time for us to do so. She was much too young. She had no real plans for her life. I was not really mature. Our relationship was full of love but there was little else to it. I was an intern and she was still in college. Life was not easy, especially for her. I knew the time would come when it would not be enough to be beautiful and in love. She needed to have a life separate from mine so she would value herself separately from us as a couple and I would value her as a person separate from myself. We worked this out together, although we never actually spoke of it in these terms. Later in my life, I encouraged my children to be independent. I wanted them to understand that women - particularly women -need to develop independent strengths apart from their husbands, in order to keep their own and their husbands’ respect over time.

When our children were teenagers, my wife went back to school and then studied medicine and became an internist. The process was difficult and required sacrifices on all sides, but over time, it worked. She has been practicing for several years.

There is no doubt that her career has fortified her.

She has a much stronger self-image, higher self-esteem, and is more independent. She is happier than she has ever been. I see her as my colleague and equal in ways I did not years ago, and I respect and value her differently. We have more of a partnership, our marriage is stronger and more stable, and in many ways her added power and value make her more important and powerful to me as well. But it is harder to actually live life this way. Things are hard to arrange day by day, details are inconvenient.

The theoretical disadvantages of a two-powerful person relationship actually become real in the end. It takes some getting used to.

We take our usual walk this morning, although when I wake up I don’t want to move. The dry desert winds stir up my allergies and I feel listless, out of sorts. Staring at my red-rimmed eyes and dry, grooved face as I brush my teeth doesn’t help the mood. My hair, standing on end, refuses to be brushed into obedience.

Worse, my knees hurt. I feel like the Tin Woodman in The Wizard of Oz that needed a shot of lubricating oil to get going. The connection of knees - father in wheelchair flashes unhappily in my mind. This was how he lost his independence. He couldn’t rely on his knees to walk or drive safely.

“I’m not my father,” I say to myself firmly. And more softly, tears just back of my eyes, “Oh, how I miss you, Dad.”

“Let’s go, darling!” my husband’s bright, cheery voice booms from the other room. He speaks loudly, to be heard over the morning news program. I want to go back to bed in silence.

David never takes silence for an answer. Knowing me well, he appears in the bedroom doorway to see if I’m dressed and over my rebellion. He resembles an overgrown boy in his turquoise whale sweatshirt (how could I ever have bought it?), bright red pants, mismatched socks, and run-down running shoes. “You’ll feel much better once you get going,” he says and kisses me.

His kisses always work magic, even when they’re illogically timed.

“Okay,” I mumble, giving in quickly, knowing he’s right.

At our front door we turn left into the ocean breeze, lured by a view of the sea at the end of the street. We pass some teenagers hurrying to get to school in time for their first classes. Pete stops suddenly, grabs my hands, and kisses me. We both giggle. I imagine that any student who sees us thinks we’re absurd-two antique creatures in baggy sweats in an embrace.

I feel lucky and blessed and embarrassed, all at once, ready to walk the earth with this man who rarely fails to delight me. Ready to do anything not to have my body go out on me, like the old woman we saw yesterday, frail and dried as an old leaf, clinging to a building for support, stopping for rest before she went on. He’s right. I need the exercise to get my mental and physical kinks out.

We walk to the park bordering the beach, lost in our own thoughts. “See you at

,” he says and begins to jog slowly, still-muscular legs as sturdy as ever, belly an unwelcome, perhaps permanent, visitor.

All the things I wanted to change in him now seem curiously appealing-his passion for golf, his sloppy habits, and his invariable optimism. Golf gives him exercise, friendship, and fresh air and helps him slug back at business frustration, and I’d rather pick up after him than have him be a nitpicker, railing at me for being sporadically messy. I know he’ll never change. I don’t want him to anymore. We are what we are, and somehow my occasional pessimism and his optimism are the perfect dancers, bridging the changing rhythms of life. And he’s more thoughtful than ever, in all the important ways.

Where did all the-years go? Gone, leaving us photographs on the family wall and a residue of the silver stardust that is love.

We meet again at
Willow, our favorite street. “Do you still want a home here?” he asks, as though we aren’t backed to the wall financially, as though we aren’t in debt, as though the recession never happened.

“No,” I answer, as if the choice is real. “I don’t want a house anymore. I feel more secure in our condo because I’m not afraid to be alone when you’re out of town. It’s just right for the two of us.”

“We could get a dog again,” he smiles. “A big Saint Bernard, just like Reggie.” I think of the rainy night in 1979, when I could no longer deny that our marriage was in deep trouble. We were lying on the den floor in our tract home, Reggie happily curled between us. A soft porn movie came on and he petted the dog languidly, never thinking of reaching out for me. I remember the ache of being unwanted, of getting up silently and going to bed without washing my face, pretending I was asleep when he came in. When I’m upset, I don’t pretend anymore. I talk about it. I don’t have the patience to wait. I’ve learned that much. The more honest I am, the less seems to come up.

The street slopes imperceptibly uphill, but my lungs want more air than I can take in and I fall behind his brisk pace. He turns, missing me.

“I’m not too speedy this morning,” I pant. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“No. I don’t ever want to leave you behind,” he says and slows to take my hand and kiss me tenderly.

Memory wants to accuse him: “But you did leave me! You did! Don’t you remember? Can you block out everything?” Why can’t I do this? It would make life so much easier.

I stop the downward spiral of the blame game. That stage is over. I have nothing to worry about now but time. We’re here for each other in a way we never were before, when we glossed over our differences to preserve the image of the perfect marriage. Here we are, wrinkles, bellies, and all, laughing more than ever at the foibles we no longer try to change.

I reach up like a young bride to touch his face, the curve of his cheek, and tilt my face to kiss him. I think I’d rather be here, right now, right this moment, feeling this way, than be young again with perfect knees. I laugh at the unspoken joy that bubbles up, and he looks at me and says appreciatively, “Does any couple laugh as much as we do?” He slides his right hand under the band of my sweatpants, grabbing my behind, knowing I never wear underpants on our walks for exactly this moment.

“No couple I know,” I respond. “My behind is getting so much smaller” We both laugh again at my forty-year battle with a flabby butt.

“I can hardly find it,” he says, so sincere I almost believe him.

We walk on, a little slower now. His thoughts, I can tell, are on business.

Mine linger on children, grandchildren, and marriage. How many marriages are stronger after a separation? Ours is. Eleven years ago we parted, at his request. He had fallen in love with a younger woman, an employee. We were apart for a year and a half, and I thought I’d never recover from the pain and the anger and the loss of him, but I did. I learned to appreciate myself when I didn’t have him to please. Best lesson I ever learned.

So it has come to this: Noticing thoughts fly through my mind like a flock of birds. I choose this one and that, not feeling their prisoner-most of the time. Noticing we’re in the fall of our lives, amazed that spring and summer have gone… wondering when winter will come.

It seems that my feelings and ideas about marriage are a function of where I am emotionally, psychologically, financially. Although I thought I had loved, and in a way did love, my first husband, the quality and nature of our love was substantially different from the love I feel now, in my middle years. The predominant recollection I have about my first marriage is that it was a comfortable, safe, and, I thought upon entering it, loving backdrop against which I planned to live out the other aspects of my life.

I always had certain prerequisites for the man I would marry. My choice for my first marriage met these criteria. At the time I was naive and had little, if any, experience as a single woman. I went from my father’s house into the arms of a protective college environment and from there directly into a marriage home. In retrospect I can see we were two innocents who were mismatched. We had different expectations and needs and, unfortunately, never had the opportunity to resolve or even discuss or work them out.

I wish I could claim credit for a brilliant choice of husband this time around, but the truth is that he is a random gift from God. I think second marriages can be storybook situations. The first time, because I was younger, it was easy to drift away from the focus of the marriage. With maturity, financial stability, and grown children, it’s possible for me, with will and discipline, to tend the relationship. Despite the complications we experience with blending our families, this marriage is more manageable, under most circumstances, than my first marriage, with its tugs and pulls.

There is another element: my husband and I share a high degree of physical passion, and our need and desire, along with the pleasure we gain from physical contact, affirm that our lust is alive and well. This was totally absent from my side of the equation in my first marriage. People have different opinions about the importance of physical connection in relation to a joyful union. Now I can compare my more passive first experience with the true visceral connection we share in this marriage.

Our passion gives us intimacy, a privateness in our relationship. This bond is for the two of us, and only the two of us, and I don’t think it can come from anywhere else. So much results from our intimate connection, such as respect and my desire to give pleasure to my husband emotionally as well as physically. I do for him because the pleasure I get in providing for him is my payback.

I have been married a long time - forty-six years. And I have been married all this time to the same woman. Is this an accomplishment? Am I an authority on marriage? I think not. What I am an authority on is my marriage. Even so, I doubt I am aware of all the elements in our relationship, of the changes we have undergone, of the compromises we have made, and of our achievements as a married couple. It may seem strange to use the word “achievement.” However, marriage is a relationship that can foster and facilitate growth in a number of areas personal developments, familial development, the development of a home. This is what I have in mind when I refer to the achievements of marriage.

Love is an important aspect of marriage, but it ordinarily is not an achievement except in arranged marriages or marriages of convenience or financial gain. Love usually is, and certainly was for me, a condition for marriage. I won’t try to define love. I know I was in love with my wife and she was in love with me. We still are in love with each other, although the form has changed. When we first fell in love, I had a difficult time restraining myself from kissing and fondling her whenever we were together, and we always wanted to be together. Indeed, that’s why I married her-so we always could be together. These days the impulse to kiss and fondle her is more restrainable, but it’s still there. I suppose someone might say that it was not love in those early days, it was sexual attraction. There was a strong element of sexual attraction in our relationship. However, I have been sexually attracted to women without being in love with them.

We had a lot going for us when we got married. We shared a great many interests-some major, some minor, and all contributing to compatibility. We were both deeply interested in the same professional area. We enjoyed travel and sports. We both loved the theater and had similar reactions to movies, with my wife leaning a bit more to the refined and interpersonally sensitive and I leaning more to the shoot-tern-ups. Despite this bit of sex-typing, our tastes were (and remain) more often similar than different. Of course, we loved children and wanted to have a family.

A related compatibility that was not a factor in our courtship but was a positive factor in the marriage was my wife’s interest and skill in cooking and my zest and delight in eating the meals she prepared. I had no idea my bride-to-be was such a wonderful cook. Today we both enjoy dining in fine restaurants, another factor undoubtedly contributing to the longevity of our marriage (although probably not to our individual longevities). However, this was not an initial element in our courtship, since we could not afford fine restaurants. In addition, although I was aware of her beauty, intelligence, and sensitivity, I had little idea of (and, at the time, probably would not have been able to appreciate) the aesthetic sensibilities she would show in decorating our home and looking attractive in inexpensive clothes (all we could afford during the first ten years).

We also began our marriage with some impediments. Our respective families, although loving, were largely sources of problems rather than sources of support. A more fundamental difficulty was our youth and immaturity. I was unable to acknowledge that needs were not being satisfied because we lacked financial resources and my spouse was reluctant to express even modest wants. My view of life required behaving as a good soldier to overcome barriers and frustrations. This, coupled with my self-righteousness, defeated communication and led to spats, emotional outbursts, and a broken record of negative interactions played out in a variety of settings. We sought marriage counseling and individual therapy and finally separated after almost thirty years of marriage. My wife initiated the separation. She took a particularly courageous step in leaving the house, in view of her attachment to home and discomfort with social isolation.

The separation was a shock for me and for her and led to personal growth experiences for both of us. She became more conscious of her needs and better able to effectively articulate them. The impregnable steel shell that made me impervious to some messages, while not shattered, became at least porous. We reconciled after six months.

It took hard work and pain to break down barriers, deepen our understanding of each other, accept our respective failings, and broaden our consciousness. This personal development constitutes for me an important achievement of our marriage. One of the challenges of marriage is for spouses to develop a shared commitment and orientation without sacrificing each other’s individuality. Also, for a marriage to work, one partner cannot grow while the other remains suspended in a never changing time warp of habits and biases.

The creation of a caring, interconnected family is another achievement of our marriage. We are fortunate in having thoughtful and accomplished children who are each creating their own families. A third achievement is a home we enjoy and that serves as a sanctuary and place of support as well as a place for entertaining family and friends. A fourth achievement is a network of friends whom we both care for and enjoy.

I think our marriage illustrates in many ways the gratifications afforded and dilemmas posed by the institution of marriage in our contemporary society. The betrothed are typically two individuals who have only superficial knowledge of each other (although they may believe otherwise) and who, while relatively young, make a lifetime commitment to share a home, raise a family, and remain together. They will have little control over most of the pressures, demands, and problems that life experiences inevitably pose.

In addition to coping with unpredictable events in the external world, the spouses need to adjust to each other’s idiosyncrasies as they interact daily and as they change. Hopefully the partner will further develop, deepen, and expand their interests and sensibilities.

The marriage that allows for the gratification and support provided by sharing plus personal growth and development for each partner is the marriage we should all strive for. Reaching that goal takes constant work. And work on the part of the marital partners is what is required to make a marriage truly work.

I sit in the restaurant of our favorite museum in
Europe. It is a time of reflection for me and I feel inspired to write. I miss you and I love you.

This is my first trip alone since our marriage, but this trip is different. An old friend is ill and called for help, for me to come and visit. Because you know I love you and am committed to you, you let me go. In between periods of long conversations and intimate discussions, I sightsee. I go to the museums and visit the historic buildings. It is absolutely not the same as doing these things with you.

All of this leads me to think about why it is so wonderful to travel together. We go to have a good time, take a break, learn, and experience. Generally we accomplish all of these ends. Moreover, we always enjoy each other’s company and deepen our knowledge of each other. You laugh at me for my elaborate preparations but you enjoy knowing you are cared for. Still, the most important part of traveling together is that we have plain, old-fashioned fun, the warm, constant, having-a-good-time kind of fun. I enjoy having you by my side. I enjoy your presence, your being, kindness, gentleness, humor.

Each of us cares that the other is having a good time, and we share. Together we decide what we most want to see. Then we discover what moves and inspires us. We work in tandem. You drive and I navigate. I plan, you approve and help to execute. And then we have our debriefings. What have you most enjoyed today? What have been the highlights of the trip so far for you? You are delight-able and your delight helps mine blossom.

Yes, sometimes things do not go smoothly.

Sometimes we upset each other the way we might at home, yet you are committed to settling our disagreements so we can get back to enjoying each other’s company. And when external circumstances cause part of a trip to be less than excellent, we do not diminish our own good times.

On Sunday my friend was tired and I spent the late afternoon alone and had dinner by myself. Had I been with you, we would have eaten together. We would have taken a long walk to the restaurant. Alone I was hesitant to do so. The streets were deserted and not inviting for a solitary walk. When we are together we make empty streets interesting. We comment on how the smallest urban details help to illuminate a culture. Alone I note them, but without you to share these observations, my delight and interest in what I see is diminished.

So I miss you now. Traveling together is giving and sharing. I will see you soon. I cannot wait.

The parents of this wonderful new human being will never again return to their old relationship, even when the child has grown and left home and they are alone again as they were at the beginning of their marriage. They will move on to a new relationship-a broader, more satisfying one. They are no longer a couple; they have become a family. The baby has added a new dimension to their marriage and a new reason for each of them to exist. Even if they have initial problems  in adjusting to the changes, even if they feel out of touch with each other for a short time, their common love for and enchantment with their child will bring them together again. No one in the world cares as much about their baby as they do; no one else can share their particular, unique experience of parenthood.

New Responsibilities of Parents

Perhaps the most difficult part of the responsibility of caring for a new baby is being on call constantly, twenty-four a day, 168 hours a week, with never a moment off. No other job requires such dedication as that of parenting. Babies don’t eat, sleep, or cry on schedule. You will be called upon to feed or comfort your infant at any  and every hour of the day or night, whether you are asleep, or ill, or occupied with a project of the utmost importance. In short, you will be required to adjust your lifestyle to accommodate the total dependency of your baby. This shift in the focus of your life may be traumatic at first, especially if you have been particularly independent and unencumbered.

Supplying the Basics

The primary responsibilities of parents are to provide their children with food, clothing, and shelter-the basic requirements of human life. In principle, all the most poverty-stricken of new parents can accept those responsibilities with few qualms, because they are the ones they fulfill for themselves. It’s the day to day details of supplying them that may make you feel insecure and far from confident in caring for your infant. You may feel, as some parents do, that while your childbirth education classes have prepared you very well for actually producing a baby, you’ve not had adequate preparation for caring for your child. The all important questions of what, how, when, how often, and why have not been answered to your complete satisfaction. In truth, they cannot be, because every baby and every set of parents is unique. Every family is different from every other, and every individual in every family is different from all the others. Some routines and procedures simply have to be tried out and perhaps discarded before you are comfortable in handling even the most ordinary of your responsibilities to your infant. You may wonder if the trial and error method of mastering a skill is a suitable approach for the serious work of rearing a human being.

In searching for knowledge about how to care for their babies, many parents are apt to be intimidated by “experts,” who may include the baby’s grandparents and next door neighbors as well as pediatricians and psychologists, and to accept as truth any scrap of advice they are given whether or not it “feel” right to them or has been substantiated in their experience. Of course there are times when nothing can be substituted for the knowledgeable orders and advice of experts in the professional fields of medicine, nutrition, and child psychology. But it is important for you, as a new parent, to learn to trust yourself. Remember, there is no right way to do most things involved in child care. You can read, you can take classes, you can question your doctor closely, you can listen to your friends and relatives, but ultimately you must make your own decisions about what is best for your own unique child. And because you know that child better than anyone else in the world, you are far more likely than others to make the best decisions.

Remember, as you make these decisions, to enjoy your baby as you learn to care for him. Try to look at parenting, not as a series of problems to be overcome or even, in the positive language of public relations, as challenges to be met. For a little while at least, let the rest of the world go by as you give yourself up to this new life you have created; appreciate the miracle of every day.