{"id":3900,"date":"2006-06-09T00:00:00","date_gmt":"1970-01-01T00:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lesliedinaberg.com\/wordpress\/?p=3900"},"modified":"2016-07-13T18:33:49","modified_gmt":"2016-07-14T01:33:49","slug":"some-fine-marriage-advice","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lesliedinaberg.com\/wordpress\/?p=3900","title":{"rendered":"Some fine marriage advice"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Marriage

Marriage of Walter John Beckwith and Myrtle Ellenor Brown, 1920. Item is held by John Oxley Library, State Library of Queensland. Courtesy Wikipedia Commons.<\/p><\/div>\n

Last weekend we celebrated my in-laws 50th anniversary. Can you imagine being married for 50 years? Remember how long that movie Titanic<\/em><\/a> was? Now watch it 127,750 times. That’s how long 50 years is. Drop an iceberg on me now.<\/p>\n

It’s not that I don’t love my husband, I do. And even though I’d had a glass of champagne, I still meant what I said when I vowed, “till death do us part” some 12 years ago.<\/p>\n

And I only dream about his death once a week, maximum.<\/p>\n

But 50 years of marriage. Fifty years. I had to find out their secrets.<\/p>\n

To understand the challenges of this quest, you have to understand that my mother-in-law, lovely and easy-going as she is, is not exactly a fount of personal information. I know more about the complete strangers I eavesdrop on at Starbuck’s than I do about my mother-in-law. She’s not exactly what you would call a talker.<\/p>\n

In my family you have to talk about everything. And talk, and talk, and talk, until you’re so tired of talking you forgot what you were talking about. We talk so much that my dad sometimes has to take little naps while the rest of us talk.<\/p>\n

Then we talk about that.<\/p>\n

My husband’s family doesn’t get the whole talking thing. They’d rather play games, rhyming their words rather than actually communicating with them.<\/p>\n

A sample conversation with my in-laws, as we drive by the Madonna Inn<\/a>: He says, “It’s very pink.” She says, “Do you think?” He says, “Should we have a drink?” She says, “That wouldn’t stink.” He says, “Wink, wink.” She giggles.<\/p>\n

She giggles a lot, which brings me to the first marriage tip I’ve gleaned indirectly from my mother-in-law: Marry someone you think is funny.<\/p>\n

If it’s too late for that, try to find things you both think are funny. Babies and the disgusting things that ooze from their various orifices are great for this. I’m told that teenage puberty, particularly when coupled with mom’s menopause, can also be a hilarious bonding experience for couples. I can’t wait.<\/p>\n

I know I’ll never be a match for my mother-in-law’s impressive ability to zip her lip when it comes to complaining or even commenting on the eccentricities of her husband. They always manage to present a united front. My husband and I are pretty good at that too, although I do try to make sure that Koss loves me more by buying him candy. Nonetheless, we’re equally firm about disciplining him when he gets too sassy, even if I do sneak him a Reese’s for comfort every once in a while.<\/p>\n

And I really do try not to laugh too hard when my friends agree with my complaints about my husband. Somebody’s got to stick up for the poor guy, and I know he would never complain about me to his friends. It’s nice to know that we’ve got each other’s backs. Right, dear.<\/p>\n

I prod my in-laws for more marriage advice. “Three little words,” says my father-in-law.<\/p>\n

I know this one. “I love you.” Right? They laugh.<\/p>\n

“Honey, I’m wrong,” guesses my husband. More giggles.<\/p>\n

“Buy me toys,” guesses my son, who’s good at math and gets the word count right.<\/p>\n

“What is it?” I ask. My mother-in-law smiles and giggles some more.<\/p>\n

“Everything’s just fine,” she says, knowing it will drive me crazy. My father-in-law laughs along.<\/p>\n

But how do they really feel? I’ll never know. And that’s “just fine” with them.<\/p>\n

Leslie is always eager for marriage advice. You can reach her at email<\/a>.<\/h6>\n

Originally published in the\u00a0Santa Barbara Daily Sound<\/a>.<\/p>\n

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