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The Midlife Second Wife ™

~ The Real and True Adventures of Remarriage at Life's Midpoint

The Midlife Second Wife ™

Category Archives: Remarriage

Reflections (with Feathers) on my Valentine’s 60th Birthday

12 Wednesday Feb 2014

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Love, Midpoints, Relationships and Family Life, Remarriage, Second Weddings, The Life Poetic, Transitions

≈ 21 Comments

Tags

Birthdays, Emily Dickinson, Love, Relationships, second marriages, Valentine's Day

©iStock.com/studioimagen

©iStock.com/studioimagen

When my husband and I were falling in love and committing ourselves to coupledom, I said to him, in all seriousness, “I want decades with you.” That was more than four years ago, when he was 55, and I was 53. It felt like a tall order; his mother died at 62, my father at 47. Then there was the fact that I’d had “a mild case of cancer,” undergoing surgery and radioactive iodine treatment for thyroid cancer. At the time of our courtship, however, I was in fine health, and so was John. (As of this writing we still are, knock wood.) This being the case, I am as hopeful for our future now as I was when we were betrothed. (Great word, isn’t it?) I’m reminded of Emily Dickinson’s great poetic line: “Hope is the thing with feathers.” My husband and I have been flying together for half a decade. I want to soar many more miles with him.

John turns 60 on Thursday, February 13. There’s something about crossing the threshold into a new decade that gives one pause; mid-lifers especially, I think, tend toward reflection here, especially if they’re in a second relationship. We have fewer mile markers in front of us, and we know that one of them will be fateful. All John or I can do is live each day with love—as if every day is Valentine’s Day, as, indeed, it will be the morning after his birthday.

Besides hosting Valentine’s Day, the 14th is a significant date for us because we met on the 14th of June. For that reason, when we decided to marry, we chose August 14 as our wedding day. The middle of February is, you might say, a peak time on our calendar, what with his birthday, V-Day, and, this year, our 56-month anniversary. But this doesn’t necessarily mean it’s black-tie-and-gown party time. Last year, for example, movers in Richmond were loading a truck with our belongings. This year, as I write this, I’m still in a leg cast.

As Connie Schultz says, life happens. John and I might not be able to go out and paint the town Cupid red, but by spreading out the significance of our love over 365 days—that is, by not taking one another for granted—each day feels more valuable, more treasured. Being mindful of our love each day helps us stack the deck. We might have only half a decade on our scorecard, but if we care for each other, are kind to each other, and express our love in ways minuscule as well as magnificent—every single day—it will seem as though we really are getting more decades than the calendar suggests. Some might call this magical thinking. I call it hoping, with feathers.

Happy 60th birthday, my love. And Happy Valentine’s Day, too. I wish you (and me, for you) good health. Decades of it.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers – (314)

By Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.

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(Older) Women in Love

13 Friday Sep 2013

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Love, Midpoints, Remarriage, Transitions, What's the Buzz?

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boomers, Cindy Joseph, Love, Lynn Forbes, Remarriage, Tammy Bleck, WHOA Network

What do we talk about when we talk about love? I recently had the honor to participate, via Google Hangout, in a lively panel discussion on the WHOA! Network. I loved talking with these accomplished, thoughtful, and insanely fun women about what it really means to find love at 50-plus. We talked about the lessons of our past relationships. We talked about the exhilaration of discovering that one amazing person who is perfect for us—and our surprise in realizing that person happens not to possess some of the qualities and life experiences we’ve toted around on our preconceived checklist of “must-haves.” We talked about the courage it takes to make a commitment, to upend our lives in order to start a new one with THE ONE.

Lynn Forbes, a co-founder of WHOA!, moderated our chat, which features model and entrepreneur Cindy Joseph and writer Tammy Bleck. You can view the short clip above to eavesdrop on what we had to say, but you can also watch the full conversation right here:

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Here Because He Wasn’t There: 12 Years After 9/11

11 Wednesday Sep 2013

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Love, Remarriage, Transitions

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New York City, North Tower, September 11 2001, September 11 attacks, Terrorism, World Trade Center

JOHN AND SANDY_TheMidlifeSecondWife

My husband John with our dog Sandy

When you marry for the second time—especially later in life—anniversaries become particularly significant: we know that time is fleeting, each milestone is precious, and because life can turn on a dime, so is each day. Each year together is a gift. In August John and I marked our third wedding anniversary. For the last three years (four if you count our courtship), I’m reminded, in the following month, just how fragile the gift of our togetherness is, and the gift of our love. John was supposed to be on the 98th floor of the North Tower of the World Trade Center on the morning of September 11, 2001. And because of a fateful decision, he is here, with me, today.

If you’ve followed this blog from the beginning, please forgive my retelling this story. It’s important to me, each September 11, to republish my original post, which first appeared on the tenth anniversary of that horrific, world-changing day.

Because anniversaries are significant. Because time is fleeting. Because each milestone is precious. Because life can turn on a dime, or on an impulsive decision.

Dedicated to the victims and heroes who died on 9/11, and to those whose lives were forever changed.

Click here to read the original post.

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‘Thank You for Shopping at the Man Store’

03 Monday Dec 2012

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Love, Midpoints, Relationships and Family Life, Remarriage, Transitions

≈ 34 Comments

Tags

boomers, Dating, GenFab, Life, Love, Match.com, midlife, Online Dating, Relationships

JOHN AND SANDY_TheMidlifeSecondWife

This is not “Steve.” To find out who this is, please read the entire post.

Let’s call him Steve. After all, that’s what he called himself on Match.com. And who’s to say if that was his real name?

Steve and I have never met, but he’s the reason I decided to step off the Match.com bus, and for that I owe him my gratitude. Why? Because in the world of online-dating algorithms, where any click, keyword, or action is fraught with significance, stumbling across his profile, which he had the cheek to title “Thank You For Shopping at the Man Store,” ricocheted me onto a fateful course.

It was time for me to renew my six-month subscription on Match.com. Or was it? Steve’s headline was a wake-up call of sorts: If what I was doing was “shopping at the man store,” well, in the words of the immortal Bard: “Yuck.”

Four years of on-again, off-again attempts to meet someone in cyber-land had taken their toll. This was clearly a stupid way to meet people, and I was done. Finished.

That weekend I sent Match my notification that I’d not be renewing, and went about my business.

I had taken a few vacation days from work, and the next day, a Monday, was beautiful and bright outside. I was about to go out for a walk. But the siren call of the inbox lured me from my intended rounds.

I still had a couple of days before my Match profile vanished from public view. Now, with the pressure off, it might be fun to log onto my email and see what new horrors awaited me.

Oh. This one sounds promising. “ArtsandSportsLvr” finds me, “1literary_lady,” interesting. At least that’s what the subject header of the Match email indicates: “You Sparked Someone’s Interest!”

Well what do you know? With just a couple of days left to go on Match, I get a nibble.

I click the link that takes me to the Match website, and click again to see what Match has to say about him.

“He’s a 55-year-old man living in Cleveland, OH.”

Okay, age is fine. Geography, manageable.

“You both fancy felines. Like you, he’s not a smoker. He has a graduate degree.”

An intelligent cat-lover who doesn’t have nicotine stains on his teeth. This just keeps getting better and better.

I click on the link to his profile.

Ah. He’s included a picture. That’s always a good sign. There’s nothing creepier than seeing a faded blue head in silhouette accompanied by a wink (or, sometimes, a leer).

Wait. This is a nice picture. Look at those bright, clear blue eyes! And gosh darn it all, he’s got a dog, too! That is, if he didn’t rent the pup for the picture. (Had I grown cynical? Yes, just a little, around the edges.)

I was aware of the cyber-clock ticking. In a couple of days, I’d be lost to ArtsandSportsLvr forever. I had a decision to make. I could let boy-and-his-dog into my life, or let them trot off into the sunset. And live out the rest of my days with my cats.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and send a reply:

SUBJECT: The artful, sporting life…
From:        customercare@match.com
Date:        Mon, June 8, 2009 10:06 am

Hello, and thank you for your interest.
I must say that from what I read in your profile, we seem to have much in common. You also have a great smile; it suggests a good, kind soul.

My subscription to Match ends this week, and I’m not renewing it.  If you would like to get to know me off-line, as it were, and wish to send me a note, here’s my e-mail address in the real world:

[excised]

Have a wonderful day!

—Marci

I go out for my walk, and when I return, there’s a message waiting for me:

Marci, thanks for sharing your e-mail address.  I would like to continue chatting until you get comfortable enough to plan a get-to-know-you meeting.  I was introduced to the Oberlin concerts at the gazebo last year and enjoyed two of them.  The theater there is a wonderful bargain as well.  I have been told that the art museum is worth the trip and is on my list of to-do’s this summer.

Now you have my e-mail address and feel free to use it.

John

“Go out and make a difference in the world and it will make a world of difference in you.” – JR

I’m intrigued. A guy who includes a quote from himself in his email signature. That could seem pretentious, but this doesn’t strike me that way. I like the philosophy here. Could this be a man who’s not full of himself? An actual nice guy?

After a few more emails, we agree to speak on the phone.

I like his voice.

We set up a meeting at the museum in the town where I live.

That date, our first, lasts seven hours.

Reader, I married him.

I know I had become cynical about online dating toward the end of my tenure, but with success and the passage of time, it’s clear to me that I really had to give the algorithms time to do their work. John and I would never have met without the nudge from our cyber Dolly Gallagher Levi.

I wrote about this experience, and the online dating phenomenon, for the Richmond Times-Dispatch in an article published September 4, 2011. My research included interviews with Amy Canaday of Match.com’s public relations office, and two experts— Mark Brooks, an online dating consultant, and Dr. Robert Epstein, a contributor to Scientific American Mind.

When I interviewed Canaday by email in 2011, she told me that in the previous five years, the fastest-growing demographic for Match.com was the 50-and-older age group.

Unattached boomers? Are you listening?

Readers, this post is part of a GenFab Blog Hop. To begin reading all of the posts on the subject of “How I Met My Significant Other,” please click here.

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The ‘L’ Word

20 Saturday Oct 2012

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Love, Midpoints, Relationships and Family Life, Remarriage, Transitions

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Dating, Divorce, Life, Love, Relationships, Remarriage, Sweetest Day

morgueFile image/KConnors photograph

NOTE: KatieCouric.com published an edited version of this post as “Learning to Love Again” on Monday, Oct. 22, 2012.

As many magazine articles, advice columnists, and situation comedies will tell you, it’s tricky being the first person in a relationship to say, “I love you.” Remember George Costanza? George was left holding what Jerry Seinfeld called a “pretty big matzo ball” because he failed to receive the much coveted “I love you return.” But what’s funny on television is actually quite terrifying in real life. It takes a huge leap of faith and nerves of titanium to say the “L” word first.

Take that terror to the tenth power if you’re divorced.

I know whereof I speak. After 26 years of marriage, my first husband and I divorced. Fast-forward six years, and I meet him. You know, The One. But let’s digress a moment, because playing with these numbers has given me an epiphany.

When I met The One, I was one year shy of my seven-year cellular renewal cycle—you know, that “Aha! Moment” your body supposedly has when all of its cells slough away, leaving you with an almost brand-new self. In truth, as Nicholas Wade wrote in a New York Times science article seven years ago, some cells—“the neurons of the cerebral cortex, the inner lens cells of the eye and perhaps the muscle cells of the heart”— remain unchanged. Now that’s what I call something of great constancy. The cellular structures of the brain, the eye, and the heart—three essential components in registering romantic love, if you ask me—remain constant. The cells in the rest of our bodies hit the refresh key, as it were.

Interesting. But the brain, eye, and heart theory didn’t pass the constancy test in my first marriage, I’m sad to say.

Then again, you never know. I like the idea of considering, given multiples of seven, that perhaps anything is possible. Believe me, I have mapped this out. I was married at 21 and divorced at 47. (Okay, so I’m a year or two off.) But everything did seem possible when I met The One, skipping along as I was toward my next seven-year cycle of renewal. The One and I had a lot in common: we made each other laugh, we sang lyrics from the Great American Songbook while cleaning up the kitchen after cooking together, and the attraction we felt toward one another left us in awe.

And then, two-and-a-half months into the relationship, it happened.

I did it. I’m the one who said it. After a hesitant sigh, he replied, as gently as he could, “I’m sorry. I’m just not there yet.”

Talk about your matzo balls. I could have opened a deli.

“Forget it,” I countered hastily. “I shouldn’t have said it. I understand what you’re saying/feeling/thinking.” (I was trying to fill in as many blanks as I could to cover myself.) “It’s all right.”

I wanted to believe that his reaction stemmed from emotional baggage. Our arms were filled with it. His divorce, however, was more recent than mine. I had reached the point where my baggage, as Dr. Terri Orbuch (The Love Doctor) says, could fit in the overhead compartment. Him? Not so much. He needed a skycap.

Or maybe it was something else. Maybe (Heaven forefend!) it was a case of “he’s just not that into you.”

And so he left, leaving me to wonder if I’d blown it. How could I have misread the signals? Everything pointed to love. All of the signs were there: the caring, the fondness, the intimacy, the long, meaningful conversations, the seeming trust, the genuine enjoyment in just being together. If that’s not love, what is?

I decided I wasn’t going to let this get to me. I was happy, he was happy. (He was, wasn’t he?) We had a date for the following evening; in fact, we had several events lined up into the next month. I wasn’t about to bring it up again.

Until one day I did.

“I blank you.”

“What?”

“I said ‘I blank you.’”

“What does that mean?”

“It can mean whatever you’d like it to mean. Fill in the blank. For my part, I know what it means but I’m not telling you. More cake?”

He laughed, and that was that. We were back on an even keel. “I blank you” became a running joke between us. He even started saying it to me.

The weeks flew by. Before I knew it, October was here, the month containing the second most dreaded Hallmark holiday (after Valentine’s Day) for single people: Sweetest Day.

I remember the scene as though it were yesterday. I had cooked dinner, something from my collection of Barefoot Contessa cookbooks. I bought him a maroon hooded Oberlin sweatshirt, not because he went to Oberlin, but because I did. I still lived in that quaint college town, and he loved its cultural vibe as much as I did. I wrapped the gift and bought a card. I presented both to him with a flourish. Here’s the card:

© Marian Heath. Used with permission and slightly altered, as it was the day I gave it to The One. Where would we be without Post-It Notes?

After he finished laughing, he became quiet. He looked at me across the table and said, “Marci, I’m not saying this because it’s Sweetest Day. I don’t “blank” you anymore. That’s silly. I love you.”

There it was. Four months after meeting him on Match.com, he told me he loved me. The matzo ball dissolved.

Four years after that first sweetest day together, we’re still celebrating. We’ve been married for two years. At the risk of tempting fate, by our seventh wedding anniversary, I fully expect the constancy theory to hold—my heart, my head, and my eyes will see what I’m seeing right now: He’s The One.

© Marian Heath. Used with permission.

RELATED:

‘When they Fall, they Fly’

“Outliers of Outloving”

“Secrets Of A Successful Marriage: Marlo Thomas And Phil Donahue”

“Secrets to a Happy Relationship”

 

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The Light Shines On: Our Second Wedding Anniversary

12 Sunday Aug 2012

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Love, Midpoints, Relationships and Family Life, Remarriage, Second Weddings, Special Events

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Anniversaries, boomers, Life, Love, midlife, Relationships, Remarriage, Weddings

"The Midlife Second Wife" "weddings" "relationships" "ceremonies"

Marci, aka The Midlife Second Wife, with John on their wedding day. Photo credit: Roger Mastroianni

Where does the time go? It seems only yesterday when I received an “interest” notification via Match.com from “arts&sportslvr,” and here we are, about to celebrate our second wedding anniversary. (Those keeping careful notes will want to know, for the record, that our nuptials took place on August 14, 2010.)

So much has happened in two short, swift years. We moved to another part of the country and set down roots by buying a home. (I also started this blog, which celebrates its first anniversary later this month.) We continue to grow together and learn together and hold each other close when buffeted by life’s vicissitudes. We embrace one another’s neuroses. (Thank you, Wendy Swallow.) We celebrate every triumph, no matter how small. We listen to each other. We support one another. We are a duo, a couple, a unit, a team. We are each other’s best friend.

Do you see the flames in the separate candles we are holding? We are about to create one unified, eternal flame. It still burns strong and bright, despite a few clouds, despite some wind and rain. When we decided to get married, we knew there would be challenges to face—how could there not be? We were each of us starting over, from scratch, midway through our lives. The light at the end of the tunnel seemed so dim, so seemingly light-years away, that we simply had to trust that it was there. It is there. It flickers, sometimes brightly, sometimes with just a pale fire. It is, in the words of our wedding poem (Wendell Berry’s “The Country of Marriage”):

a pattern
made in the light for the light to return to.
The forest is mostly dark, its ways
to be made anew day after day, the dark
richer than the light and more blessed,
provided we stay brave
enough to keep on going in.

We are nothing if not brave. What else can we be? We are human and we live in this world and we have faith. And we are together, thank God.

On what will be our second wedding anniversary—and on every day of our lives together—I say to “arts&sportslvr:” Thank you for joining your candle to mine, and mine to yours.

I love you.

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Breaking Eggs, Making Omelets: The Midlife Marriage Proposal

23 Monday Jan 2012

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Midpoints, Relationships and Family Life, Remarriage, Transitions

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Life, Love, midlife, Remarriage

MorgueFile Image

Someone very wise once told me: “If you want to make an omelet, you have to break some eggs.” Two years ago today, my husband John proposed marriage while we were enjoying a breakfast of omelets at one of our favorite haunts in Oberlin, Ohio—the Black River Café. We had been dating for a little more than seven months. We were each in our 50s. We were about to break a whole lot of eggs.

Nothing worth having in life is without sacrifice, which is what my sage friend was getting at. John was most definitely worth having. There were, however, a few built-in challenges. At the time of John’s proposal, he had been out of work for a year and in the midst of a nationwide job search. The chances were slim-to-zero that he would find a position in his field that would keep him—I mean us, for we were becoming an us—in Northeast Ohio. I was quite aware that by accepting his proposal, life as I knew it could change seismically. The metaphor represented by our breakfast was not lost on me.

I’ve written about this subject before, in an essay for the Richmond Times-Dispatch, so I’ll try not to go over old ground. What strikes me about this lovely little anniversary we’re marking today is not so much the eggs that we broke (for that you can read the essay), but the omelet we’ve made and continue to make.

Tom Hanks’ character Forrest Gump famously said: “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.” With all due respect, I think that somewhat misses the mark; it suggests that you just sit back and let life come at you, like a barrage of chocolate-covered confections. Sure, you make a selection from the sampler, but it’s already there for you, prepared and preconceived. Or, if you like,  preordained.

For my money, life is more like an omelet. You have to break something (or break with something)—a routine, a way of life, the place you’ve lived—to create anew. You can fill it with whatever you like, and it sustains you. But the key difference is this: you are an active participant in its making, rather than a passive recipient in the taking.

So what is this omelet that John and I are making, anyway? It derives, as I said at the outset, from a whole lot of broken eggs: a move to a different part of the country, a new job for him, a new career path for me, a separation for both of us from our children.

This omelet/life of ours is spartan because of where we’re starting from—we won’t get fat off of it.

A year-long layoff brings with it debt; an inability to find work in a new city means a career change and a sporadic income. We’re building this new life with an eye toward nutrition rather than frills. What do we need? What are the essentials? What can we postpone or get by without? We allowed ourselves a wedding, to mark the life-moment for us and for our children so we would all have a real, glorious memory—but we have postponed a honeymoon. We rented for almost the first year of our marriage, then bought a house that we could afford, not one that would have given us more space. We curtail what we spend on entertainment, on clothing, and on anything that doesn’t contribute to getting us back on solid financial ground.

No, we’re not getting fat from this omelet. But from these limitations comes a real awareness of what is most important in life: our love, our life together, our health and our happiness. This life, now, with its challenges and limitations, is delicious.

Remarriage at life’s midpoint brings with it an awareness of something else: ephemerality. I should add then that our omelet/life is notable for its shelf-life. We know we won’t live long enough to celebrate a 50th wedding anniversary. If we make it to our 80s, we could swing a silver anniversary. But no one knows this better than we do: You can get married in your 20s and 30s and have no guarantee of a golden wedding anniversary. So the bottom line is this: we don’t know how many years we get together. None of us do.

And this is why John and I celebrate these sweet little milestones in our life together.

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A New Year, A Time for New Endings

04 Wednesday Jan 2012

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Midpoints, Relationships and Family Life, Remarriage, Transitions

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Life, New Year, Resolutions

—MorgueFile image

One of the best quotes I’ve come across in a long time—in two diverse venues—is from the writer Maria Robinson, who said: “Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.”

This seems an appropriate way to start the first blog post of the new year, don’t you think?

Robinson’s quote also gave me pause. I had always thought that my remarriage represented a New Beginning, but perhaps that way of thinking has me coming down too hard on myself. At life’s midpoint, it does seem daunting, if not downright exhausting, to Start Over. Maybe it’s just useful semantics (my cockamamie tendency to be unusually susceptible to language), but when I begin to recalibrate my perspective as that of making a new ending rather than a new beginning, I do believe I can actually feel some of the pressure roll off my back.

Ah, the hopefulness of a new year.

While we’re on the subject of new endings, I want to share with you some more wonderful insights that fought their way to the surface of all the tinsel and glitter of the season. They’re from a terrific article, “30 Things to Stop Doing to Yourself,” and I want to give a shout out to the blog Marc and Angel Hack Life for being awesome. Here’s the top 10 from their list of 30. As resolutions go, these are pretty extraordinary.

  1. Stop spending time with the wrong people.
  2. Stop running from your problems.
  3. Stop lying to yourself.
  4. Stop putting your own needs on the back burner.
  5. Stop trying to be someone you’re not.
  6. Stop trying to hold onto the past.
  7. Stop being scared to make a mistake.
  8. Stop berating yourself for old mistakes.
  9. Stop trying to buy happiness.
  10. Stop exclusively looking to others for happiness.

There are 20 more of these, and many other articles on their blog that will make you stop and think. But before you go, and while I’ve got you thinking about new endings and old behaviors to stop, would you like to share one of your own resolutions in the comment section? What’s the one thing you’d like to stop doing this year? Or better yet, what’s the one ending you’d like to make new?

Happy New Year.

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The Triumph of Love: A Talk With Author Wendy Swallow

12 Monday Dec 2011

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Love, Monday Morning Q & A, Relationships and Family Life, Remarriage, Second Weddings

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Life, Love, Marriage, Premarital Counseling, Relationships, Remarriage, second marriages

Several months after John and I became engaged, I was assisting a journalist at the New York Times with a story—part of my regular duties as director of communications for the music conservatory where I worked. During our e-mail exchange, I mentioned that I was getting remarried, relocating to Virginia, and would soon be leaving my job. She wrote back to wish me luck and tell me about a book that crossed her desk when she was an editor at the Times Book Review. She found it “extremely interesting and well written,” she wrote, and sent me a link that led me to Wendy Swallow’s The Triumph of Love Over Experience: A Memoir of Remarriage. Something told me to read it—most likely the voice inside my head suggesting that after a quarter century of marriage and seven post-divorce years on my own, advice from a person who had been in the trenches might be useful. Deeply in love, John and I share a common sense of how to be in the world and of the world—with the same values, faith, and politics—and we operate from the same zone of trust and honesty. We’ve always been able to communicate easily and openly about our relationship. Still, advice from an expert is always welcome, and I was curious to see how someone else navigated the waters we were about to enter. I should mention that Wendy and her second husband each had two sons when they remarried—all of them teenagers.


THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE OVER EXPERIENCE: A Memoir of Remarriage

By Wendy Swallow
296 pp. Hyperion.

Her book was a comfort to me, a survival guide, user’s manual, and road map all in one. I have recommended it countless times—and not just to second couples—anyone in a relationship will benefit from reading it. Regular followers of this blog already know that I’ve cited Wendy’s wisdom before. One of my favorite quotes appears on the “Secrets to a Happy Relationship” page, which you can find at the top of the blog. When I began formulating the editorial objectives for The Midlife Second Wife, I determined that mine would not be the only voice you would hear; a section devoted to interviews with experts was therefore essential. Wendy Swallow is the first person to whom I reached out. I’m pleased and honored that she agreed to do this interview. Here is an edited transcript of our conversation, which took place on Thursday, December 1, 2011:

Wendy, thanks so much for participating in this interview. I’ve been looking forward to our conversation for some time. So have some of my readers. One of them sent me this e-mail:

I’m not in midlife … and not a second wife, but I’m having thoughts and fears of a second marriage. I’m 43 and said that I would never remarry, but I have recently found someone who I would consider marrying and I’m scared as hell!

Based on the research you did for your memoir of remarriage—and based on your own happy experience—what do you say to people who are genuinely frightened by the prospect of “stepping off the cliff and hoping to be able to fly?”

Those fears need to be taken seriously. That doesn’t mean you give in to them, but you listen to them and examine them. You have to trust your gut on this stuff, but you also have to really believe strongly—and the research bears this out—that the people who do best in a remarriage are those who have really worked to process what happened in their first marriage and their divorce, and who have grown from those experiences. That means perhaps going into counseling, accepting your role in what did not go well in your former relationship and where those problems lay, and in your ongoing relationship with your ex—even if the person that you left seems mostly to blame for the marriage’s failure from your perspective. Everybody has to look at how they contributed to the marriage not working out—even going so far as to ask why you married that person in the first place. This is especially true if you have children. I believe strongly in this. I don’t think it’s an easy process to go through. But if you want to grow and be able to marry again, this is an important piece of the puzzle. You have to keep those lessons in front of you. Researchers find that people who do not do well in remarriage never really learned the lessons of their first failed marriage. The statistics for second marriages succeeding are not great. And for those who remarry a third time, the odds that that marriage won’t work increase, and they go up for each subsequent remarriage.

I know. The numbers are pretty grim. Your reminder that we learn the lessons from our past experiences is critically important. What other conscious decisions must a couple make, and what actions must they take, for their second marriage to have a shot at success?

One of the things Charlie and I told each other early on was this: “I just want to be clear: I’m not rescuing you.” We were mostly talking to ourselves. We married our first spouses because we wanted to help them be more stable in the world. After my marriage ended, it ultimately became more important to me that I be really stable and happy in my single, divorced life. I knew this for myself, but I wasn’t sure that Charlie saw that.

There’s a moment in the book where I write about how we went to counseling with a minister. At the very first session, she managed to surface the whole issue of money, because we had a wealth disparity in our relationship. It wasn’t a bad thing—we didn’t think that money was something we’d have to spend a lot of time worrying about. But we had slightly different attitudes to this disparity in our relationship—we had two alien cultures coming together—and we recognized that it could create challenges in the future. It took—it always takes—compromise and communication to work those things out, so having these counseling sessions helped us; even if you think you know what you’re doing, a little premarital counseling can go a long way.

I want to return to the topic of compromise, but first I have to say something about premarital counseling. In our case, that train had left the station; that’s why I was so glad to read your book. How risky is it to take on a second marriage without going through couples’ therapy first? What advice do you have for those who are leaving it to their own devices?

I do think there’s a lot of good literature out there, and many excellent books that deal with stepfamilies, so there are a lot of resources. You can get counseling in various ways. A wise, good friend can be helpful. Definitely you have to talk to each other.

Before I left my first husband, I remember talking to a friend who remarried. I asked him what worked in his second marriage that didn’t work in his first. He said that when he married his second wife, he told her, “If you have a problem with something I’m doing, tell me right away. Don’t let it snowball.” That was their mantra.

I really thought about that. If you establish that you can talk about the difficult issues together early, then that’s good.

Very early on, our kids got into this habit that we worried about at first: drinking milkshakes at 10 at night and watching South Park in the kitchen. At first Charlie and I hung around, but then we realized they had more fun without us there. So we started taking our dog out for a long walk while they had their time together. It was perfectly natural; we didn’t like South Park. We’d leave the house with the dog for those long walks, and that was when we could talk without people hearing us or wondering why we were huddled together and whispering. We were both working full-time and running all over D.C. with these kids to play practice, SAT prep—we had very little downtime with each other—so those walks were very helpful in giving us a chance to download. His boys would bring their issues to him, mine to me; kids communicate with their own parents, mostly. Sometimes there were things I needed to know, and I wanted to anticipate what level of support was required of me.

That’s a great example of using every opportunity to keep the lines of dialogue open. Let’s get back to the subject of compromise. It’s undoubtedly important, but is there such a thing as too much compromise?

I think you have to trust your gut. You might agree to compromise on something but it doesn’t sit right with you. Trusting your gut has two actions:

1. Listening to your inner feelings, and assessing those feelings. How fair are they?

2. Acknowledging that there may be something you either need to bring back or learn to deal with. Which is it?

It’s not enough to listen to your gut—you must assess your feelings. Let your rational, less emotional brain think about it. Once you’ve done that, ask yourself what you really think will be different after your compromise—what outcome are you looking for?

There’s a famous moment in our family when we all learned a lot about compromise. My youngest stepson, Sam (the second-youngest of the boys) was advocating for a cell phone; he went to a school that was farther from home than the others. We worried about the cost of four cell phones, thinking that if we got one for Sam, we’d have to get phones for all four boys, as they were close in age. It begged the question: Who is ready for something, and who isn’t?

Each boy got his own computer when they started high school; before that, they had to share. And they would be taking their computers to college. We thought we were being fair and equitable. But after much discussion about the cell phone, Sam turned to us and said, “Can no one be special anymore?”

The truth is, each boy was different and had different needs, but we were trying to homogenize everyone. Benjamin called it “the kindergarten effect.” When we all moved in together, I had a cubby for each boy, color-coded toothbrushes and towels. The boys saw it as infantilizing. The house would have run more smoothly if the Wendy-scheme had worked, but the boys weren’t in that place.

Sometimes you set out with a plan that you think is fair and equitable, but life is a lot messier than that. The boys picked up on the fact that we wanted to be fair and equitable—and they appreciated it—but we were also able to articulate that within the family, some had specific needs.

The lesson is, compromise is a double-edged sword. Sometimes an imposition of the will of one person over the other has to be negotiated.

Here’s another compromise-related question, and a timely one, with Christmas only two weeks away: How do you handle the holidays?

In the early days we had a little trouble, because although Charlie and I tried to organize things well in advance, not all parties involved were planners—they would do things at the last minute, or not consult with us, so the matter of who was even going to be with us was often up in the air.

We did okay, though. One of the things we decided early on was that because our kids were teenagers, we were not going to pretend to make a happy family out of the six of us just because we were cohabitating. Both our sets of boys spent time with their other parents. Both of us had joint custody, which was nice. Sometimes we just had his kids, sometimes just mine, sometimes all four, sometimes nobody. We’d have four different alternatives in a two-week period. My older sister, who is a minister, says, when something is stressful:

“I’m trying to hold this lightly.”

This Christmas we’re expecting to have all four boys together for the first time in four years; all four of them without other people. We’re still waiting for word on the fourth and hope we get him. But we’re “trying to hold it lightly.” If it doesn’t work, it’s not the end of the world.

I learned from my first marriage that the good moments in life are not necessarily going to happen on a designated day. Many wonderful moments take place on completely average days.

The other thing is, we really didn’t want the kids to feel the stress of two families on the holidays, so we would accept that the kids were happy with the parent they were with. We’d have a night two weeks into December where we did something special together, like decorate the tree. We learned to get very flexible.

People get into trouble when they have a preset romantic notion of how something should look, whether it’s marriage, or what a holiday is supposed to look like. Life is way more variable. What is precious in life is not a perfectly decorated tree with all people in their seats at the table. Life can be messy.We’ve had holidays where we didn’t even put lights on the tree. It just has to be good enough as it is.

Whatever it is, Charlie will always say, “Let’s make this fun.”

Our first Thanksgiving in a restaurant was kind of sad for me; it wasn’t with my big family. Charlie found this cool restaurant and we were seated way up high. It was a lovely experience, but partly it was because he said “Let’s just make this a really cool event they’ll always remember.

One day we were trying to choose a movie to rent, deciding which one would be the most fun. The boys said, “Let’s do several movies!” It wasn’t what I had in mind, but I took Charlie’s line and asked myself: “Is there some way to have fun here?

Compromise again, which takes negotiating. Pro and Con lists are great tools for that—especially for working through big decisions. For a couple about to get remarried, what in your view are the top three things that should appear on the Pro side of their ledger? And what top three items on the Con side of the list suggest trouble ahead?

On the Pro side, I think that these must be at the top of the list:

1. Both parties need to be tolerant, patient, mature, and capable of self-examination.

In my first marriage, I didn’t understand how mature I had to be in the world. In my second marriage, I learned, partly from working for many years, that there’s something about the business world that enables most people to deal with people even if they don’t like them. A lot of the attributes about how we behave outside of the family can help us be better members of our own family. I don’t think I should give voice to all of my angry moments. I do a lot of waiting, so I don’t feel so strongly about the issue and can then address it with my more mature self.

2. Each person needs to be truly loving. They have to really love each other—love all of each other—the whole ball of wax.

None of us are perfect. We will all disappoint each other at times. But who is really there for me? And who am I really there for? Charlie and I didn’t get married for three years; we didn’t make any rash movements. I had worked so hard to recover from my first marriage that it took my brain time to catch up with my heart in order to accept him with all of his baggage. I knew that it was going to take time. Research bears this out: Rapid remarriage is dicier statistically than thoughtful, careful remarriage.

I knew that there was a whole process that Charlie had to go through—that he and his ex had to go through—without me coming in.

3. Your kids have to be in a place where they will be able to cope with your remarriage.

Charlie and I did not move in together before we married—not for moral or religious reasons, but because I was not going to ask my children to be at the kitchen table with a stranger every morning unless I was sure that this was a permanent thing. And his kids were really not ready; it was a little harder for them when it did happen because their parents’ divorce was more recent.

Not all kids are going to be ready for their parents to remarry. I know marriages that have sort of gone forward without everyone at the table. It’s not that they won’t be successful; it’s just that things will be tougher. It can be painful. I’ve watched a couple of families whose kids went into battle mode. Our own kids did not need to make us unhappy; they were very relieved that their parents were happier once they remarried.

Now, for the Con side …

1. Any impulsive behaviors

One example of an impulsive behavior would be getting together when it is motivated by something other than “this is the smart thing to do.” One thing I found in my research is that women are more likely to remarry partly to solve financial problems. Many women come out of a divorce living a more reduced life, and they struggle significantly. Women are somewhat motivated by financial concerns; who can blame them? But if that is the main motivation, that’s a problem.

Another impulsive behavior is getting married in the first blush of love before you know who somebody is—acting impulsively towards remarriage rather than thinking it out carefully and taking the time to know who you’re marrying. When you remarry, it’s not just the person you’re marrying; it’s their larger family. It’s their baggage. It’s their divorce.

2. Wrangling over property and money from early on in the relationship

We’ve all heard stories of someone who married a person who dictated everything, including where they will live, because the person they are marrying is very established in their lives and their career. If one party is having to give up everything and the other is not giving up anything, that’s destabilizing. It makes you wonder why they’re not compromising. One area where this comes up in a big way, even subconsciously, is property.

When the kids and I moved into Charlie’s house (partly for financial reasons) there were advantages. It was closer to my job. We would be only two blocks from my ex, which was a huge boon for my kids. But it was their house. When we moved my stuff in, I put it all in the living room, then I asked for a shelf or two. We worked it all out, negotiating so that decisions weren’t made automatically and arbitrarily. If one person in a proposed remarriage is unwilling to compromise on some of this stuff, that’s a problem.

The issue of property is interesting. When I was interviewing people for my book, I met one couple that fought because the husband needed a home office and he took away his young step-daughter’s playroom. By the time I’d met them, she was a grown woman who no longer lived at home, but she still hadn’t forgiven him. It’s all about territoriality. People identify certain things, rooms, and buildings with different stages in their lives.

3. The person you remarry doesn’t share your basic values and integrity

Here’s another thing I learned from my divorce. My ex and I had less trouble deciding about how to deal with our kids afterward because he’s trustworthy. He had issues, but trust was never one of them. He never once missed a support payment. He never stood the boys up. We shared the same values on education and on who the boys would become. We shared the same religious life. We shared the basic values.

If either party lacks integrity, then there’s going to be a lot more distrust in a marriage, and trust is the most important thing. You have to really know a person to know if they’ve got a spotty trust history.

Wendy, you’ve written a book about divorce and a book about remarriage. Do you have any plans for a third book about relationships?  

I never really meant to write a memoir to begin with, and then I wrote two even though I thought I shouldn’t write one until I was 80 and my parents were gone. I don’t think I’ll write another book about relationships; I’m not really sure I have anything more to add to the literature at this point. I’ve just spent four years writing my first novel. I’m working with my agent, and hoping it will be published in the next year or so. Part of me wants to do more non-fiction. We now live in Nevada half of the year, and I’ve become very interested in climate change, especially as it relates to the West. When my kids were young, I had all sorts of story ideas in my head about families and kids with issues. Maybe if I ever have grandkids …

You’ve now been remarried for ten years. What would you tell your younger self if you could travel back in time to the eve of your wedding?

It would be to have confidence. I’d say, “Trust yourself and trust Charlie, because it’s all gonna be fine. You’ve made an excellent choice. Trust it and rejoice in it.” 

Wendy Swallow is an author and journalist who recently retired as an emeritus professor of journalism after nearly 20 years of teaching at American University in Washington, D.C.  She started her career as a reporter and editor on the financial desk of the Washington Post, covering the savings and loan crisis, local business, and regional environmental issues.  In academia, she researched and wrote about advertiser pressure on newspaper coverage and the influence of new technology on journalism.  More recently, she has turned to writing about family issues.  She has published two books with Hyperion, Breaking Apart: A Memoir of Divorce (2001) and The Triumph of Love Over Experience:  A Memoir of Remarriage (2005).  In addition to many newspapers, her work has appeared in MORE, Washingtonian, Ladies’ Home Journal, Readers’ Digest, Parenting, The National Journal, Washington Journalism Review, Journalism Quarterly, Journalism Educator, Newspaper Research Journal, and Extra!  She is currently working on an historical novel and divides her time between homes in Reno, Nevada, and Washington, D.C.  She and her husband Charles Shepard have four grown sons.

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Outliers of Out-Loving

06 Sunday Nov 2011

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Midpoints, Relationships and Family Life, Remarriage

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Divorce, Love, Malcolm Gladwell, Marlo Thomas, Marriage, Relationship, Wendell Berry

The other day I posted an essay about the secrets to a happy marriage, sharing insights gleaned from a Marlo Thomas/Phil Donahue interview on the actress’ Huffington Post site.

Although John and I are nowhere near the 30-year partnership shared by Thomas and Donahue, it occurs to me that I nevertheless learned a fundamental secret to a happy marriage—or relationship—soon after meeting John. I keep these words close to my heart and even closer to my consciousness, because they map an objective I want to reach every day:

I want to out-love him.

John and I both divorced after long first marriages. We know that the statistics for successful second marriages aren’t great. But we are determined that ours be a union that will not only survive, but thrive. The notion of out-loving one another comes from John. He sets the standard. I just try to catch up.

He learned about out-loving from a premarital counseling class he took, ironically, prior to his first marriage. An older couple, married for decades, was advising the neophytes. The man was asked the secret to a happy marriage. He replied:

I can’t and won’t speak for my wife, but I can tell you my secret to a happy marriage: I just try to out-love her.

Wow. Who was this man? And is it too late to harvest his DNA?

Given the grim statistics of divorce in the U.S., it is apparent that not too many partners are trying to out-love their mates. But John shared this anecdote with me soon after we started dating. And boy, does he live up to it.

I call him an outlier of out-loving, to borrow Malcolm Gladwell’s term. An outlier is one who possesses characteristics outside the norm of the majority. The ability to out-love another can seem as rare as a pink diamond.

I sometimes have to remind myself that this is not a competition. Love—and the gestures, kindnesses, and consideration that stem from love—should come naturally, no? And it does, but to a point, and that point is usually when one partner is over-tired, over-worked, or over-stressed. It is human nature for patience to run ragged. It is human nature to become preoccupied and distracted. It is human nature to sometimes lack mindfulness.

It takes mindfulness to out-love one’s partner. Mindfulness of the bond that holds you close, mindfulness of the trust each of you places in the other, mindfulness of the fragility of life.

My objective in finding my soul-mate was to find the one man whose face was the last thing I want to see before taking my last breath. I’m one of the lucky ones; I found him. At our wedding, my friend, the wonderful poet Lynn Powell, read Wendell Berry’s “The Country of Marriage.” Here is an excerpt:

…                              We are more together
than we know, how else could we keep on discovering
we are more together than we thought?
You are the known way leading always to the unknown,
and you are the known place to which the unknown is always
leading me back. More blessed in you than I know,
I possess nothing worthy to give you, nothing
not belittled by my saying that I possess it.

More than any pink diamond, the gift of John’s love is more precious to me than any possession. I have no idea how many years we will have together, and so I want each day to count. This is especially true, I think, for couples who marry later in life. We are more aware, I think, of our mortality. I therefore want to spend what time we have together out-loving him. Every precious day.

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