Yesterday, was the 7th anniversary of being married to my love. The previous Monday was the 17th anniversary of our first date. I joke that I “test drove” him for 10 years, but the reality is that my mother’s sudden and unexpected death was what shook me out of the determination to never marry again. I’d told H that I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life, but I didn’t see the point of tying the knot.
The shock and agony of Mom’s sudden passing made me realize that I was holding on to past pain; I’d been letting what went wrong with my first marriage prevent me from embracing the possibility of a second. So I proposed to H. It took me many months to realize that he’d said yes…but that’s a story for another time.
We’ve now been together as long as I was married the first time - and happily so. We make each other laugh. As I said in the dedication to Some Kind of Hate, H is my happy place.
This month has been horrible, and to be honest I felt guilty about doing anything fun and frivolous when there is so much pain and suffering in the world.
But it’s at the darkest times that we need to find and treasure moments of joy. It’s like when one of my dearest friends made a joke at Mom’s funeral that still makes him cringe to think about, but that I will always love him for because it made me laugh at a time when I thought I’d never be happy again.
Our anniversary celebration was going to see Depeche Mode at Madison Square Garden.
MSG was where I saw my first rock concert, Jethro Tull. It’s where I’ve seen so many bands - Grateful Dead, Madonna, The Who, Peter Gabriel, Sting, Billy Joel, Queen, Taylor Swift, Peter Frampton and more. Honestly, I can’t remember them all.
When I was in high school, the place was filled with smoke, both cigarette and weed, and at the end of the concert you’d end up with a singed thumb from holding up your Bic lighter to show your appreciation for the music.
These days, it’s cell phones, which are much easier on the fingertips. But at risk of sounding like the alter cocker** that I am, cell phones also serve as a distraction from being in the moment in a way that our cheapo Bic lighters didn’t. Call me old fashioned, but you’ll notice that there are no actual pictures of the show. That’s because after taking the selfie below before the it started, I put my phone away until the encore, so I could be fully present just like I was when I was fifteen and there for my first rock concert.
As I looked around the crowd, it made me sad how many people seemed more intent on recording the show than actually living it.
But other things made me happy - I saw a wide range of couples, showing affection without fear, something that didn’t happen so much back in the 80’s. I saw people of all ages dancing, and enjoying themselves. The guy next to me was singing along loudly and out of tune. The group of middle aged women behind us didn’t sit down the entire show, they were so happy dancing and singing.
It was magical. I felt like I was back in my 20’s.
Or it did until the later that night and the next morning when my arthritic hips and feet started reminding me that I am no longer the young woman I imagine myself as in my brain.
That part sucks. But would I trade it for being in my twenties again, like I was when I first heard Depeche Mode? No way, unless I could take my 60 year-old brain with me. Because while my body has its issues, I am so much happier mentally than I was back than. So much more grounded.
The world is still a heartbreaking shit show. But for one night, we managed to carpe gaudium - we seized joy, and celebrated love.
And that gives us the strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other in the darkness.
*We moved back to the States when I was 12 and was about to start learning Latin as a third language, so classicists please forgive me if this isn’t the correct word to use!
** Alter cocker (Yiddish) = literally old sh*tter, but in the vernacular the proverbial old person shouting “Get off my lawn!”