Last week, one of the trainers I work out with asked me, with a smiling but joking tone, “Just how old is that shirt you’re wearing?”

This particular tee shirt, which used to be black but now is a definite faded grey, is a particular treasure of mine. The front is riddled with holes, (quite in style these days). You can barely read its logo, which announces the presentation of a stunning collection of Egyptian artifacts, highlighting the life and death of the pharaoh Ramses. I actually toured the show twice, taking each of my two oldest nephews who had come for a solo visit with Aunt Margaret in Dallas.

That was 28 years ago. The trainer is 29.

Such a pup.

The beauty of this unique fashion statement for me lies in the memories it brings. It was fun times with nephews I adored, who seemed proud to travel on their own to the big city.

That was 1989 — the same summer I met my now husband.

He was the nephew of one of my mother’s best friends. The two of them had had it all planned, and we met for tacos at my now aunt and uncle’s home, me with a not-too-happy nephew in tow.

It was far from “love at first sight.”

It took my aunt inviting me, once more, to join them for dinner, before there was any sign of a future. I can’t remember that particular meal, but I laughed a lot. They asked me to play the guitar, something I hadn’t done since high school. The only song I could remember was “Puff the Magic Dragon.” (A song, by the way, that I had had no clue in school what it was really about). My future spouse shook my hand as I was leaving, but he’s a Yankee after all. And perhaps we should take into account that I had just sung a song about smoking weed. He finally called the next day, and asked me out.

We were inseparable that following weekend.

As I drove home last night, I saw his car parked out in front. And I smiled. After almost 27 years of marriage, I’m glad to come home — to him.

I’m hoping we look better than the shirt, but it may be a toss up.

Right before our 24th anniversary, I wrote a post about marriage. My husband was about to have an operation, and I wanted to somehow honor how I felt about him and our marriage– say what I had learned. Much to my amazement, it resonated with thousands of people when it appeared on The Huffington Post. Many asked if there was a way to get a copy.

Well… now there is.

Incredible photographers Christine Mathias and Deborah Payne Strauss, have generously offered their gorgeous and evocative photographs to create what is now available as the book, “Marriage Is Not For Chickens.”

It’s a little book that states very simply, “12 Things Marriage Is,” and “12 Things Marriage Is Not.” You can pick it up for someone celebrating an anniversary, or an engagement. It takes only a few minutes to read, but its meaning far outweighs its actual girth. We’ve kept the cost as low as we could, and it’s available on Amazon for around $10.00. Give it as a remembrance to someone you love, or tuck it into a gift basket — to acknowledge what you accomplish every day, by being together with respect and kindness.

It’s been a joy to put together, and I hope you’ll enjoy.

Click here for “Marriage Is Not For Chickens,” and give the gift of honoring your own marriage, or the partnership of someone else you love.

 

 

You can hear more about Perfectly Hidden Depression and many other topics by listening to Dr. Margaret’s new podcast, SelfWork with Dr. Margaret Rutherford. Subscribe to this website and receive her weekly posts as well as her podcasts, plus Dr. Margaret’s eBook, “Seven Commandments of Good Therapy.”