I met my husband when I was 17 years old. Was it love at first sight? Hardly. I really didn’t care for him at all. He sweat too much. Even though he had an awesome car, it wasn’t enough to make me want to be with him. Our first date was in August and it was HOT. All I could remember was that he sweated profusely. After one date, I knew he WASN’T the one.
Evidently, he felt the same about me, because I didn’t hear from him for another 6 months. Oh well, easy come, easy go. So in February he sent me a letter asking me if I remembered him. Well, as any woman of 17 years would do, I told him “no” I didn’t remember him. When all along all I could think of was this was the guy who sweats so much. However, he did have one redeeming quality that every girl looks for in a boyfriend–the car.
So I consented to go out with him on the next Friday night. Ugh. What was I thinking? Especially since several hours later, some of my girlfriends told me about something they were going to do that sounded way better than being with “the sweater.” So I concocted a plan to get a headache and ask him to bring me home.
As planned, I had a sudden onset of a severe headache about the same time that snow started to fall. I knew that if the roads got slippery, my mom would not let me go out with the girls. What a dilemma. To stay with “the Sweater” or go home and spend the rest of the evening at home. Yuck!
Well guess what? This young man had everything in his glove box to cure a headache as well as cure anything else that might come up to ruin the whole date. Honestly, he should have been a doctor. And as the night wore on, I discovered that he didn’t sweat at 27 degrees. And, really, he was a pretty nice guy.
So at 18 years of age, I consented to marry this man much older than I. He was 21. They said it would never work. He was a country boy and I was a city girl. One thing I have discovered is that Country Folks are as prejudice about City Folks as City Folks are about County Folks.
Definitely we did not have a lot of money. I became very creative with many ways of making do with what we had. I sewed everything including his suits and all 5 of our children’s clothing. That is when April, my daughter, learned to sew so proficiently.
If I wanted to decorate with something, I made it with the help of my husband. I discovered what an amazing “fix it” man he was. A man of so many talents that I never knew existed until there was a need. In so many of our creations that I would dream up, he would tell me, “It can’t be done.” I would just look at him and say, “Yes, it can dear. I know you can build it.”
So at 25 years of marriage we were convinced that we could be the builder of our own home. Oh may! If that’s not a marriage breaker, nothing is.
Somehow, we made it through the process in 10 months. Lots of discussions–no arguments–about what we–no I mean I wanted done.
And now I live in my beautiful home that my super-man husband built for me. And yes, he is still a heavy sweater, and it doesn’t even bother me a bit.
Then he built me the barn that is now my place for all the decorating events that we have. He has the old barn back – I have the new one – and he is thrilled that we each have our own.
With all the odds against us, we have managed a whopping 45 years of loving each other. I’ve learned from him and he’s learned from me. He’s let me be who I am and I’ve let him be who he is. We want to see each other succeed in whatever we do and we do all we can to make it happen. However, he must work harder at it for me than I have to do for him. He’s just a natural over-achiever.
And incidentally, every time it snows, I thank the Lord for it. It ruined all my plans to ditch the guy that would make me happy for the rest of my life.
