I was just learning to read when I handed my mom the anniversary card I’d found in a box on her desk.
With all the over-dramatic “ohhs and ahhs” one gives a child for doing a good thing, Mom received the card with appreciation and read it silently.
Then — she collapsed into a heap of laughter and could not stop laughing. She laughed the kind of laugh one laughs when trying not to laugh.
I’m sure my puzzled expression caused her to want to stop laughing – but she could not. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She held her sides. She could not breathe.
Finally, words came out. “Sympathy. This is a sympathy card.” She laughed again.
I waited for the definition of “sympathy,” realizing it was somehow different than “anniversary.” Both were long words ending in “y.” Apparently, that was where the similarity ended.
I remember wanting to laugh, too, but I didn’t get the joke. Finally, Mom regained her composure and thanked me very much for the lovely card. She explained that “sympathy” means being sad for someone else and “anniversary” is like a birthday.
That was 50-some years ago and Mom and Dad are still having anniversaries.
I credit Mom for my own success in marriage. Her main teaching was along the lines of, “You don’t have to say everything you think.” She’s right. It’s the best marriage advice I’ve ever gotten, and of course she never actually said it, she modeled it.
As of June 12 she’s been modeling it for 60 years.
We’re going to celebrate with a party at the farm where they’ve lived their entire marriage.
Grandkids and great-grandkids are coming from across the country to help celebrate. Forty-some people will share cake and ice cream, music, laughter – and, of course, cards.
Mine will say “Happy 60th Anniversary Mom and Dad, Love Brenda.”