In nine days Her Majesty and I will be celebrating in our own special way forty-eight years of wedded bliss. Let me re-phrase the last statement. I should have read forty-eight years of marriage. There are bound to have been ups and downs along the way.
One time 'The She' was asked, "Have you ever thought about divorce"? "No", she said," but a thousand times I've considered murder".
From a man's standpoint, primarily mine, there have been keys to success. I let her make the big decisions and I come through with the smaller ones. Every car, each and every home, all vacations; the choice has been made by The Queen. Of course, she has a huge mental advantage over me. Do you recall the television show 'Everybody Loves Raymond'? Poor Ray didn't know how to turn on a water faucet. Debra understood economics, how to tune up a car and keep the family safe, clean and healthy.
In December of '69, two weeks prior to my marriage an old coach friend tried to give me some sage advice on how the man should start off as the boss. "Snap their garters into place from the get go", he said.
Who was he trying to kid? I knew his wife. She was Debra Barone personified. The old coach was me.
So, after all these years I've been contemplating my successes, you know, coming up with the smaller decisions.
As an example, in 1984 I decided I wanted a camper van. We tooled on down to a car dealer and listened to his spew. My lovely, after crunching the numbers, volunteered this nugget; "Let's compromise on this quest to spend money. Why don't you buy a pair of shoes". And I did.
I've taken stock of my 'small decisions'. Primarily they boil down to these: I decide on white or wheat bread, vanilla or chocolate ice cream. It's the way God meant it to be.
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