“I realized something the other day,” my husband said. “I’ve been married to you for over half my life.”

I couldn’t tell whether he was happy or depressed.

So I came up with the only answer I could think of off the top of my head.

“You lucky man,” I said with enthusiasm. “Think of all the things you’ve learned from me. You should be thanking the angels that you’ve known me for over 35 years.

We both laughed, although I laughed harder than he did.

It’s true he’s learned a lot in the three decades we’ve been married.

He’s learned that mathematically challenged people can be an asset.

The fact that I can’t remember the date of our anniversary means I never expect a gift.

He’s also learned not to argue with irrational people.

That would be me.

He realized my irrationality early on. When we got married, he had a well-behaved and quiet cat, the first cat I’d ever been around.

When I found out I was pregnant, I remembered hearing my elderly aunts repeating an old wives’ tale – cats will get into a crib and suffocate the baby.

At the time, there was nothing separating the bedrooms from the living room. I panicked and said I wanted a door blocking the hall from the rest of the house.

I told my engineer husband what my elderly aunts, and well-meaning cat-hating friends, had said about cats getting in a baby’s crib.

“I’ve heard that could happen,” I added.

“You’re being irrational,” he finally said in frustration.

“That’s correct,” I said. “And the only way to deal with irrational people is to humor them.”

The door went up the next week.

Over the years, I know I’ve spouted off useful, empowering words of wisdom, lessons that put his life on a more productive road.

Gems of knowledge that opened his eyes to truths he never knew his wife possessed.

I just can’t think of any of those gems right now.

His gems are easily recalled. First, remain calm in emergencies. One year, he went hiking in Arkansas. A few days into his trip, he called.

“Hi honey, it’s me,” he said, his voice calm and cool. “I’ve been shot. Don’t panic because I’m okay.”

I practically dropped the phone, but he explained a hunter didn’t see him and hubby was hit with some buckshot.

A trip to the emergency room ensured he was in no danger, but I don’t know very many people who could calm their wife down from the emergency room as a doctor removed buckshot from their body.

He taught me how to methodically put things together. Before we were married, my do-it-yourself steps included dumping the box out on the carpet, starting right in and ignoring the directions.

Husband taught me to make sure I had the right tools, to count the parts before I got started and to gasp, read the directions first.

He never spends time straightening up a closet or drawer because he keeps things neatly organized. Unlike his spouse, he always knows where his car keys and wallet are and he never loses a sock in the dryer.

I, on the other hand, have probably spent years cleaning up closets and straightening up my desk. I frantically look for my car keys at least once a week, misplace my wallet almost every day and there’s a gallon Zip-loc bag in the laundry room filled with mis-matched socks.

Some of us are lucky enough to get through life with a full deck of unbent cards in the original box while others have a 48-card deck of mis-matched, dog-eared cards in a Zip-loc bag.

Somehow, we’ve made it work for 36 years.

Maybe it’s because my husband is one lucky guy.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.