50 Days of Remembering 50 years Day #4

Nine Months

It's not what you are thinking. Nine months is how long we knew each other before we got married. I will tell you, yes, we were in love but in nine months we also did not fully know each other.

I remember the first time I saw George really lose his temper--it was after we were married. After we were married, he learned just how poor I was at housekeeping but pretty good at cooking. After we were married, we learned all the little tweaks about life that one liked one way and another liked a different way, whether it be squeezing toothpaste a certain way, folding clothes certain ways, hanging clothes on hangers right or left-handed or other quirks.

Even if we had lived together before marriage which the world now embraces (but our faith doesn't agree), life's circumstances shape people and we all change. Parenthood is a learning process and surely changes a person. Different jobs shape people, loss of loved ones, health issues, and so many more of life's passages change us.

There were times when being married was hard. Life gave us many obstacles that we didn't always agree on the way to get around them, but we hung in there and we got through them one way or another. He would tell you I always got my way, but I would say differently for sure. There were arguments and hardships. I just want to let anyone know that being married 50 years is no easy task. It's not that two people are the absolute perfect fit in every way, but they learn how to work with each other with their different strengths and weaknesses. They learn the ebb and flow of the waves of life to navigate the course together. To be truthful, sometimes I did wonder if our ship was going to survive the storms.

I guess this one is a public service announcement. Hang in there. One piece of advice that I would give is to not take everything so seriously or "don't sweat the small stuff". There are so many big things to get through, let the little slide. And we have found humor is a great healer and a great way to overcome little things.

I remember the time that George was annoyed that I had not picked up the correct type of peanut butter. He liked crunchy and I had gotten creamy (which, of course, I prefer--we have our differences). It was breakfast and I had just made scrambled eggs. He reiterated so I would get it right next time, "I like crunchy peanut butter, crunchy cookies (not chewy ones)."

I plopped his plate of eggs on the table and said, "Fine, next time I'll make your eggs crunchy!" A moment that could have snowballed, was turned into laughter. Laughter has healing powers, as long as not at anyone's expense. We have had a lot of laughs in 50 years. 

"Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way in the wilderness these forty years, to humble and test you in order to know what was in your heart." Deuteronomy 8:2

50 Days of Remembering 50 years Day #3

In fifty years, we have lived in four places--all within twenty miles of each other.

When we were first married, I moved into George's apartment on Wall Street in Torrington. He had been living in a small apartment on the third floor but moved to the first floor when we were getting married. To be honest, I barely remember too much about it. We were there for about five months. Sadly a few months after we moved out a fire destroyed the whole building. We can only drive by the empty lot and say, "That's where we first lived." The houses were so close, it's hard to imagine there was even a house there. 

Remember how I said I didn't go to college but went right to work? Well, I also lived with my parents. At one point I was considering getting an apartment with friends, but my parents were so distraught about that, that I abandoned that idea. They loved having me around but also didn't see the need for me to waste money on living elsewhere. As I have said before we were a strong family unit, a triangle that could not be broken. This made it hard for me to tell them when George proposed. I thought they would be upset, but no, getting married was different and they were happy for me. 

Shortly before we were married, I disclosed to George that I had a little bit of savings. He was quite amazed. Because of my savings, we were able to have the down payment to become homeowners within five months. He joked that he didn't know he was marrying into money. Now, it wasn't that much, but enough to get us started. 

Our first home was Stony Hill, a cute four room house up a long 450-foot-long driveway in Norfolk, CT. I have fond memories from the cute little home--beautiful flowers and a veggie garden, many cultivated raspberries, a nice deck out front and a boy scout cabin we had moved there where we had our kid's birthday parties. In the house, there was an actual staircase to the attic. What a delight. 

I do remember the negatives: the long uphill driveway that had me in tears when the plow broke down and we were shoveling it by hand. Also, this was the old days and although my parents only lived 25 miles away, they were a toll call whenever I called. Back in those days if you called someone long distance, you were charged extra each time. Thus, my Mom actually wrote me letters sometimes. 

I have covered more details about our housing journey in the past, so for now, will not go into the details of the long, detoured journey of heartbreak and struggles, but will say in 1985 we ended up in Barkhamsted and it is still our home. We love our town.

We didn't intend on renting for more than a year, but circumstances found us at the Rocktree Apartments in Pleasant Valley for eight years. I will say for apartments, we couldn't have had a better country setting for the kids to grow up in. There was a big backyard and a long rectangular gazebo where they always played and we held all the birthday parties there. From our living room sliding glass doors to the deck, we could see Ski Sundown lit up at night. One quirky thing the kids like to remember is when you opened the oven door in the tiny kitchen, anyone in the bathroom would be locked in. The apartment was set up like a raised ranch with the bedrooms downstairs. Unfortunately there were only two bedrooms forcing our kids to share a room all those years. Our single Dad neighbor chose to sleep in his living room giving his kids each their own bedroom. He was quite the Dad. On the other hand, my husband often reminds us that his family was so big growing up, that he rejoiced when someone moved out of his bed. 

The road was long, but prayers were answered in God's time and in 1993 we not only got a house, we had one built. We chose a ranch style anticipating it would be our retirement home, and we would not want to deal with stairs--now we are realizing the true wisdom in that choice. We do have to go downstairs to our laundry (which could have been on the main floor instead of a pantry, but I do l like my pantry). 

I am happy to say we are still here. 

If I had thought about these posts earlier, I could have included more pictures of our journey, but I am rushed now with each day moving me along. Maybe at some point I will add more pictures to each blog entry. 

I found this newpaper article that shows our first apartment after the fire that destroyed it after we had moved out.

"My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest." Isaiah 32:18

50 Days of Remembering 50 Years #2

I am realizing it's going to be hard to pick out which memories of many years together to pick out. I may not go chronologically and maybe it will be haphazard--like my daily rabbit trails.

Facts: 

We met on January 31, 1975

First date February 2, 1975

About May 17 George gave me a lilac bush. He knew it was my favorite flower. We planted it at my parents' house. It is still there but doesn't do very well in the shady spot, but it's still alive.

We became engaged on May 24, 1975--how could I say no to someone who gave me lilacs?

This is my poor lilac bush, still hanging in there 50 years later.

He asked me to marry him in the parking lot of the Chart House in Avon, another spot we sometimes went to for a drink upstairs. I still have the little champagne bottle from when we celebrated there.

We picked out our rings together in one day of running around to several places. We ended up picking out our rings at George's Jewelers in Westfield, MA. We have driven by and we see it is still in business. We should really stop by someday. 

After running around that day, we were late to see his mother when we were going to tell her the news. Because we were late, she was upset with us. You never wanted to cross his mother. She did come around, in time, as she always did. 

I always dreamed of a fall wedding, so when picking the date, it was either the fall of that year or wait over a year. We did not want to wait, so November 1st was chosen, a mere nine months from when we met. 

My easy choice of attendants were two friends I became close with at work and one childhood friend: Kathy Quick, Joanne Bazzano and Janice Senter. George chose his brother, Al and two childhood friends: Rob Harrington and Joe Sverni. George's niece, Lisa Namey was chosen at flower girl, and his nephew, Scott Batky, as ring bearer. 

Memorabilia from the day:

We were married at Norfolk Congregational Church by Reverand Bruce Anderson. Our wedding reception was at Dileo's Grove. I have to find the spelling of the name of our photographer, something like John (Jean) Rebeuff. He had a French accent and kept us in stitches. The weather was the most perfect autumn day nearly 70 degrees. "What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate." Mark 10:9

50 days of remembering 50 years #1 The Beginning

It's 50 days away from our 50th wedding anniversary. I thought I would share something each day about our journey together. Some are stories told over and over again, so bear with me. I do need to start at the beginning once again. 

It was January 1975. I was still living at home with my parents in East Hartland. I had been working at Connecticut General Life Insurance Company in Bloomfield for a little over 3 years, straight out of high school. For most of my life, I have avoided the subject when people talked about what college they attended as I felt a stigma of being a lowly high school graduate, but in my old age, I cannot care anymore, and I actually did fine without it. I had intended to work for a year to save up money to go to college (Although a spoiled only child, my parents did not intend on funding it. Dad thought college mostly taught common sense and he said I had that.)  I told my guidance counselor that I was going to work for a year to save money and then apply for a college in White Plains, NY to study advertising. He told me I would never go if I started working. I didn't believe him, but he was right. 

About twenty miles away, George, who had grown up in Norfolk, was living in Torrington and working at UOP Aerospace in Bantam. He had served in the Air Force and was an air traffic control operator in Vietnam at the air base in Pleiku. He loved being an air traffic controller best of all the jobs he ever had. He attended college on the GI bill majoring in history, considering being a teacher. He was 28 years old and I was 22--boy, does that sound young now. At the time, I was wondering if I would ever meet Mr. Right. You've heard of the comparisons between Lincoln and Kennedy, I presume. Well, George and the guy I went out with before him both were one of 13 kids in the younger end of the family, both had mustaches, both had served in the Air Force and in Vietnam. They were both older than me. If you want to get crazy, both had 6 letters in their first names, brown hair, were around the same height, and had good senses of humors. Later I told myself that God had said, you almost have the right guy. 

Back in those days, Friday nights were the night that singles usually went out to the local lounges. In our area we had the Dial Tone Lounge (a unique experience where you had phones at your tables and could call a stranger at another table to start a conversation). There was a place in Canton, I can't remember the name, for some reason I think the Cracker Barrel--the chairs were barrels and they played old black and white silent movies on the walls. There were quite busy places in the Hartford area attracting a ton of people. In Winsted there were bars, but in Torrington, there was the Springtree Lounge. To me it seemed like a more upscale place as opposed to the bars, and it had live music. 

I was paired up with my friend's cousin to go out on Friday nights, yes, honestly hoping to meet someone. I had just gotten back from a road trip to Michigan to visit my closest friend. Her sister and I had made the trek. Meanwhile back home, my Friday night friend was anxiously waiting for me to return, expecting me to go out that night. I was still recovering from the trip and didn't want to go out at all. She begged and pleaded and I gave in. And that was the night on January 31, 1975, I met George Washington. 

He asked me to dance and I don't know if I would exactly say it was love at first sight, but I thought, "There's something different about this guy." He asked for my phone number and I reached for a notepad I had in my purse--coincidentally it looked like a dollar bill (another sign?).

He didn't want to ask me out for the next day. He thought that was too assuming, but he called and asked me to go for a ride on Sunday and I went. 

From then on we met at the Springtree Lounge or went out every weekend. I don't remember exactly how, but "Mandy" by Barry Manilow became 'our song'. 

Neither of us dated anyone else since. I did get asked out, ironically around February 22.  I told the guy I was seeing someone else. I don't know why, but the guy asked me who had asked me out. When I answered, he must have thought I could lie better than saying, "George Washington". 

Something I haven't shared but might as well...there is often this awkwardness about a first kiss. George did not want to be too forward, but he was also a bit shy about it. As we stood on my front step after our third date, he pointed in the sky and said, "Look! There's Halley's comet!" and as I looked up, he stole a kiss. Obviously, whenever anyone mentions Halley's comet, it has a different meaning for us. 

"I have found the one whom my soul loves." 

Song of Solomon 3:4

High School Sweethearts 1951: Helen and Wally

 
My parents met in high school and were class sweethearts. I recently found their high school senior yearbooks. I enjoyed seeing a glimpse of that time in their lives. For those who knew my Dad in later years and wonder about his name, since his brothers were both named Joseph, he went by his middle name, Walter or Wally, until he moved to Connecticut. 

My Dad, I wonder who's holding the other end?

My Mom:

Dad in chorus (last row 3rd from the right)

I'm not sure what "Class Day Parts" was, but he deserved acknowledgement. 

Age/Famous For/Pastime:

Class gifts: 

Class Will

Class Prophecy

Some of the autographs:

And in case you missed that last autograph:

My parent's song

One year later:

My parents married on June 7, 1952. They were married until death parted them on June 19, 2013. The high school love that was expressed in their yearbooks, lasted forever. I found love letters they wrote to each other reinforcing this lifelong love. 

Here is a video of my Dad explaining how he met my mother in high school. 

Joe Casey and Square dancing

New Year's Eve 2024

 

This picture is more than a decade old, but the view is the same now. This was the view I could see in December on my way to work. I had to pull over and look backwards to see it. I usually got out of the car to take a picture and reflect upon the masterful beauty of the view.

That is what we do each New Year's Eve, isn't it? Stop and pause and look at the view from the previous year. As a new sun rises in 2025, may it be the start of a year of beautiful views for us all to be able to look back upon at the end of the year. Happy New Year1

Our Christmas greeting this year

 

Another holiday season is here. Another year almost faded away into a memory. As we go through day by day, we hope for sunshiny days, but in reality, we go through this life in a fog, not seeing the future. We think the path is straight but sometimes we come to a fork in the road and a decision has to be made. Or there are times when a mountain raises out of the fog in front of us. We must face things that seem insurmountable. Step by step, we make it through. We sometimes enjoy beautiful flowers along the way and scenic views of life we never knew we would experience. 

Life is a journey, our route not straight, full of crossroads and detours. We carry two suitcases along the way decorated on the outside with the stickers of our life's milestones. One with memories to save and when we rest, we open the case and reflect on the happy God-given memories which give us strength to get through the hard climbs. The other suitcase contains our thoughts, our hopes, our dreams and our treasures of life. It also contains our anger and regrets and lessons we have learned weighing us down. Each day we need to take the anger and regrets and leave them in our past to make room for the good things. We keep the lessons learned to remind us. And hopefully we can share our treasures that God has blessed us with, with others. 

Our lives this year has had struggles. I will not focus on them. We have loved ones near us and enjoy the little things and the big, like a kitchen remodel and a getaway. "It's a Wonderful Life" is my favorite movie and I guess it could be this year's theme as we went to Seneca Falls, the town that is said to be the possible inspiration for Bedford Falls. We saw the museum and at home, we were able to attend a showing of the movie on a big theater screen. In the movie, as George Bailey traveled through his foggy life, he kept being faced with detours and mountains. He had wanted a suitcase covered with stickers of exotic places he had been, but instead he had stickers of love, appreciation and hard work. Although his last mountain seemed insurmountable, with the help of friends and a guardian angel, he realized the value of life.

Our suitcase this year is covered with stickers of loved ones and places close to home. It is a wonderful life.

Our wishes for you in this holiday season are suitcases that are not weighed down with sadness or anger or guilt, but heavy with memories and the love they represent. May your new year be one of many more happy memories made and the right choices in what to leave behind. Vayos con Dios. May God bless your journey and may many stickers cover your suitcase in the new year. 

Matthew 6:21 "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Love,

Debbie & George