Larry and Marilyn at a Chanukah Ball in December 2023.
Come my love and we will wander, just to see what we can find. If we only find each other, still the journey is worth the time.— Mason Williams
By MARILYN SHAPIRO
Along with school opening and all that is happening in the world, September is a memorable month for my husband, Larry and for me.
Fifty years ago on Sept. 8, Larry and I got married at Agudat Achim Synagogue in Schenectady. For those who have been reading my column for a while, you may remember many of the stories. We met at a Purim (not porn as some people misheard!) party held by Jewish singles in Albany. It was love at first sight, and we got engaged six months later. Our wedding was held on a relatively hot September afternoon, the week after Labor Day to accommodate Larry’s parents’ store’s school opening weekend and at two p.m. to accommodate Hebrew school hours.
Tough Start
Despite the fact that the rabbi barely knew us, he gave a very long talk, of which we remember nothing. The reception was provided by the sisterhood, and the reception featured chicken, peas (Larry hates peas!), and un-kosher wine provided by my mother whose label was covered with aluminum foil. The band forgot the words to our first dance (“He Touched Me,” by Barbra Streisand. On reflection, it was a dumb choice. If we got married today, Larry and I would choose “Moon River.”) My father got a little tipsy (totally out of character) and thanked the Keeseville National Bank for the loan that paid for the wedding.
If the wedding and reception were not perfect, our honeymoon was a disaster. Twelve hours into our stay in Quebec City, Larry woke up in agonizing pain from what was later diagnosed as a kidney stone. The next morning, I drove Larry to a hospital and drove myself to a $9 a night rooming house across the street. Three days later, newly relieved of his stone through surgery, Larry sat in the passenger seat while I started the drive back to my parent’s home on Lake Champlain. Mistaking the Canadian kilometer per hour speed limit for the United States miles per hour speed limit, I hit 90. Larry told me to pull over, and he would drive. When we arrived three days early at my parents’ cottage on Lake Champlain, they initially thought the marriage had already tanked. (Fifty years later, despite the fact that I am an excellent driver, I still defer to Larry to drive when we are in the car together.
Getting To Know You
Thus began the “getting to know you” stage of our marriage. In that first year, a co-worker of Larry’s noticed that my usually slow-to-anger husband was banging drawers and mumbling expletives under his breath. “What IS your problem?” Helen asked. “Never get married!” Larry shouted. “She leaves her shoes in the middle of the room,” he steamed. “When I got up to go to the bathroom, I tripped over them.”
A half a century later, we have learned to accept each other’s quirks. Larry is a terrible backseat driver; I leave cabinet doors open, lights on, and discarded shoes all over the house. Larry is quiet and private; I am talkative and too forthcoming. Larry thinks often in mathematics and statistics; I am more focused on the written word. Case in point: Larry thought our 49th anniversary was more exciting because 49 has a square root; I had to use this column to share an essay on our 50th.)
In the glow that surrounds our memorable anniversary, I could come up a handful of things about Larry that bother me. Larry came up with fewer.
Learned A Few Things
When my parents celebrated their 50th anniversary, we had a huge party at our home in Clifton Park. The four children and their spouses had chipped in to give Mom and Dad their first ever and what would be their only cruise. I will never forget their joy and amazement when they opened up the envelope with the voucher.
Of course, we all thought they were old. As a matter of fact, I had commented earlier that summer that it was a ridiculous that a couple were getting divorced after 35 years of marriage. Why bother starting over at that late stage?
Homage To My Partner
I now know that 50 years has flown by in a flash, a blur, a nano-second. We have a lifetime of memories and experiences and ups and downs and ins and outs. We have enjoyed working in career fields we loved, raising two children, watching them grow, spread their wings, and fly onto new adventures; sharing friendships; and sharing close family ties only enhanced most recently by mishpachah (extended family) and three grandchildren.
Despite the feeling that the last half century has sped by, I will not trade one moment of our lives together for anything else. Larry is my best friend, my soul mate, my companion, the wonderful father of my children and the amazing zayde of our grandchildren. For his 75th birthday, I wrote a list of the same number of things I love about him. In the past year, I’ve added several more.
How will we celebrate? Our children gave us a weekend at a beautiful bed and breakfast. Later this fall, we will take a trip to Italy.
But most importantly, I will never ever lose sight of the fact that marrying my Larry was the best decision I ever made. And thankfully, he feels the same way about marrying me.
Marilyn Shapiro, formerly of Clifton Park, is now a resident of Kissimmee, Fla. Keep Calm and Bake Challah: How I Survived the Pandemic, Politics, Pratfalls, and Other of Life’s Problems is the newest addition to her line-up of books. It joins Tikkun Olam, There Goes My Heart and Fradel’s Story, a compilation of stories by her mother that she edited. Shapiro’s blog is theregoesmyheart.me.
