Tag Archives: Relationships

What’s Their Secret? How to Have a Happy Relationship

26 Wednesday Mar 2014

Posted by in Secrets to a Happy Relationship

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

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

 

The single most important thing to making a marriage work is the ability of each party to tolerate the neuroses of the other. If you’re going to make it for the long haul, you’re going to have to learn to live with those neuroses. In fact, you’re going to have to learn to embrace them.

—Wendy Swallow
The Triumph of Love Over Experience

Marci Rich: What’s the secret to … a long, happy marriage?

Sissy Spacek: Marryin’ the right guy!

—from “Sissy Spacek’s Wonderful Life,” by Marci Rich in the Richmond Times-Dispatch

Don’t think the worst of your spouse.… I think we go to war not for what is true, but for what we think is true.…Don’t go to war for what you think your spouse is going to do.

—Phil Donahue

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.

—John, by way of a wise elder

From TMSW readers:

Our favorite is “the bed fairy.” Confession. We don’t make our bed in the morning, since we’re often getting out of it at different times. So at night as bedtime nears, one of us sneaks in and straightens the bedclothes. Some nights it’s me, other nights it’s him. And then we joke about the “anonymous” bed fairy who came to do the deed.

—Karen P. Schaefer
11/07/2011

My hubby and I never say anything to intentionally hurt each other. Even when we’re angry and it would be so easy to say something like “you’re such a moron”, “you’re a slob”, etc., we both button our lips. Once something is out there, you can never take it back.

— Barb Disterhof
11/07/2011

Laugh, talk and listen. There will always be hard times but with someone you love and trust by your side, there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel.
******
My husband has just given me his thought: Marriage is a game of give and take; if you both give more than you take, you’re in for a happy partnership.

Aw bless, I am one lucky gal.

—roseshadows
roseshadows.wordpress.com
11/07/2011

Great question. I’ve written about this, so … to choose just one, I would say “keep an open heart at all times.” This seems to facilitate all the things we should do: have compassion, forgive, be kind, remove judgement, etc.
Nice to meet your blog!

—Kris
lifelearningtoday.com
11/08/2011

Try new things together! My husband and I are taking a Latin Dance class, it allows us once a week to focus on each other, learning a new skill, and having fun! We plan on taking an Italian class next! :)

— Jenn
sothisisloveinmaine.blogspot.com/
11/08/2011

Assume nothing. That’s the single best tip I live by and shout from the rooftops.

—Just Jane
janesinfinitewisdom.com
11/11/2011

the secrets of a happy relationship are simple:

1. you must never intentionally do or say anything designed to make your partner feel bad.

2. you must recognize that being the one who is “right” is not as important as both of you being happy.

3. you can be “right” without stressing that your partner is “wrong.”

4. if you truly “love” your partner, you will never call him/her “stupid” or other similar words, nor will you use phrases like “shut up.”

5. you will recognize the difference between a negative intent and a negative outcome. for example, if i attempt to help you carry something but end up breaking it, the fact that i was trying to help carry is more important than the result of it being broken.

6. you will never assume that your partner knows what you are thinking.

there are more, i’m sure.

RMV
11/29/11

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

12 Wednesday Feb 2014

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

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©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.

Breaking Bad for Thanksgiving, but Thankful Anyway

27 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by in The Healthy Life, Transitions

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My left foot, 24-hours after breaking bad.

My left foot, 24-hours after breaking bad.

I can’t help but think that when it comes to Thanksgiving, I’m operating under some sort of jinx. Ten years ago, my divorce was finalized the day before Thanksgiving. I wrote about that experience two years ago on this blog in a post that struck a chord with well more than a thousand readers after being featured on WordPress. The following year, the essay was reprinted on Better After 50, a terrific site for midlifers.

The post addressed the vast changes I grappled with in celebrating a major holiday right on the heels of my divorce, and how, newly remarried, my second husband and I would drive up to Ohio from Virginia, where we had recently moved. Having no home base any longer, we celebrated Thanksgiving in a restaurant. We were with all three of our sons, but it still felt alien to me.

Last year, my husband and I very nearly had to spend the holiday apart; he had just taken on a new job back in Ohio, and I was holding down the fort at our Virginia home, beginning, once again, the rituals of packing and preparing a house to go on the market. John could have had his turkey in the dining area of the Residence Inn, where his company was putting him up;  I would have had the better end of the deal: celebrating with our good friends in Richmond. But I flew up for a house-hunting trip, and my future daughter-in-law’s parents kindly invited us to join them for their Thanksgiving. Still, it wasn’t quite the same. This now made two years in a row that I wasn’t able to cook for my favorite food holiday.

So imagine my excitement this year when, finally settled in a charming 84-year-old house near the shores of Lake Erie, I began orchestrating plans for a Thanksgiving meal around my grandmother’s old table. I began to pull out my holiday recipes. I ordered an organic, free-range turkey from our local market. I put a fall wreath on the front door.

Because John’s older son and his fiancé couldn’t rearrange their work schedules, we actually celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas on Friday, November 8, with a homemade lasagna dinner at which all of our boys were present, joined by P’s fiancé and my son’s new bride. It was lovely. And it’s a good thing we had that at least, because two days later, I fell.

We were walking our dog Sunday evening. It was dark. This little deadly was on the sidewalk:

Ohio is the buckeye state. This is a buckeye pod. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Ohio is the buckeye state. This is a buckeye pod. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Long story short, a trip to the emergency room confirmed my worst fear: I had broken my left foot at the fifth metatarsal. The break, known as a Jones fracture, is an unfortunate one in that these types of fractures take an inordinately long time to heal. Something about diminished blood flow in that part of the foot. The orthopedic surgeon I saw the following day ordered a short-leg plaster cast and absolutely no walking on the foot for at least six weeks. At least the fracture doesn’t require surgery.

Now, let me tell you something about charming old homes that were built in 1929. They do not have first-floor master suites. They typically have only one bathroom, always on the second floor. Homes like ours, which have undergone renovation before we got to them, will have a powder room on the main floor. Ours is an anomaly in that the powder room, for which we’re grateful, can only be accessed by walking down two steps off our kitchen. We must also walk up three steps to enter the back door and two to enter the front. Do you see where I’m going with this? The operative word here is “steps.” Crutches are notoriously dangerous…perhaps as dangerous as buckeye pods. The only way for me to get anywhere vertically in our house is by scooching on my bottom. Unless you work out frequently and have impressive upper body strength (which I don’t), this is not as easy as you would think. Consequently, I have spent nearly three weeks marooned on the second floor of our home.

Here’s where I get to the part about being thankful.

My youngest stepson is enjoying a gap year from college. He has been here every day during the week since my fall, bringing me meals on a tray, walking our dog (carefully), and performing all manner of tasks and errands until my husband returns from work in the evening. In an attempt to help further his education (maybe not much of a deal for him), I’ve taken him on as an intern for my company, teaching him a few PR ropes. He is assisting me with an important project for one of my clients, and quite frankly, I don’t know what I’d do without him. Luckily my office is on the second floor. I tool back and forth from bed to bath and beyond (well, to the office) with this nifty knee scooter.

Zoom-Zoom

Zoom-Zoom

My husband is doing the cooking, marketing, also running errands, and tending to me in the most loving way imaginable—all while commuting to work each day. He has the patience of Job.

Our new church has arranged for us to have several home-cooked meals; one new church-friend even dropped by our home with altar flowers to cheer me. Two neighbors have helped me out with a couple of breakfasts when C. wasn’t able to be here in the morning. Members of the blogging community have reached out to me with love and good wishes. The positive energy from all of this could get a city off the grid.

So this Thanksgiving, when I bow my head before the turkey dinner that my husband will have cooked with the help of his youngest son, I know what my blessings are, and what to be thankful for. They are legion, and I am humbled by the generosity and selflessness of others.

But if it’s all right with you, God, I’m going to add a small request during my prayer of thanks: Please. No more broken bones. As You know, because You know everything, this is my third fracture.

Readers, I suppose I’ll have to tell you about those other bad breaks some time. For now, let’s all give thanks for family and friends.

Wishing you a blessed, healthy, and peaceful Thanksgiving!

12 Things to Tell My Son Before His Wedding Day

26 Thursday Sep 2013

Posted by in Love, Relationships and Family Life, Transitions

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Roger Mastroianni photo

Roger Mastroianni photo

Having an only child is the maternal equivalent of putting all your eggs in one basket, so to speak. Additional children give you the chance for a do-over or two; with only one, that’s exactly how many chances you get to get the whole parenting thing right. I look back on the trail I embarked upon 32 years ago, and I see it littered with the weeds and stones of my mistakes and missteps. Occasionally I’ll spot a bit of something shiny. I hope it’s a marker for a good decision made, or the right thing said at the right time. Yet, in spite of my occasional impatience and bursts of short-temper, the young man standing at the edge of this path—my son—is the brightest thing shining there. He’s a terrific person with a great good heart, and he’s at a crossroads. He’s getting married soon to a beautiful young woman with a great good heart of her own. I have just one chance to get this whole mother-of-the-groom thing right. Over the years, through trial-and-error, I’ve learned a thing or 11 about what it takes to make a relationship work. I’d like to share these bits of wisdom with him now—12 things he should know before his wedding day.

  1. Never take her—or anything—for granted. Be grateful every day for the life you have and the love you’ve found.
  2. Do something nice for her every day, and thank her for something at least once a day.
  3. Remember that marriage is not a competition except for this one thing: try to out-love one another.
  4. Embrace her neuroses. That is, should she have any.
  5. Respect her. Respect her. Respect her.
  6. Communicate with one another clearly, calmly, and constantly.
  7. Listen to what she has to say, and put yourself in her shoes while she’s saying it.
  8. Make time for each other.
  9. Be in the moment when you’re together. Concentrate on one another, not on your work or your smart phone.
  10. Hold hands every chance you get.
  11. Make love with one another as often as you can.
  12. Put the toilet seat down and pick up your clothes from the floor.

Moving to Encourage Good Fortune

23 Wednesday Jan 2013

Posted by in Transitions

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MorgueFile Image

MorgueFile Image

You’d be forgiven for thinking I’ve fallen off the map. I haven’t been blogging much lately because my life is about to change in a whopping big way. After two-and-a-half years in the fascinating city of Richmond, Virginia, my husband and I are preparing for our return to Northeast Ohio. Or, as I like to call it, the Land Where I Met the Love of my Life.

You’d be right in thinking: “My goodness! Didn’t she just uproot herself to move from Ohio to Virginia? I remember reading all about it on her blog.”

Well yes. Welcome to life in the 21st-century, where job changes occur with greater frequency than they did in our parents’ generation. My husband’s new job—a really terrific one—is the magnet pulling us back, and it’s a good move for many reasons, although we’ll discuss the frigid climate another time. My son is getting married this fall, John’s oldest son is receiving his doctoral degree in May, and we will be much closer to his younger boy. Our boys, I should say. Our sons. None of this “his” or “mine.” John and I believe that our blended family feels very much like an “ours,” although, sometimes, old speech habits are slow to catch up with the heart.

As for myself and this move? Well, I can write and blog anywhere—from the top of Mount Rainier, if I have to—as long as there’s Internet access and I don’t have to climb to get there.

But for now, I’m here, chipping away at the slow deconstruction of my tiny office in our Richmond townhouse. I’ve just removed the artifacts and “familiars” that adorn my bulletin board, and at present I have on my desk a great treasure. It is a poem, yellowed with age and riddled with pinholes. I will carefully tuck it away in a file for the move to Ohio, where it will resume its rightful place—I want to say like a talisman, but that’s not quite right and you’ll see why in a moment—in my new office. I also want to say I hope it will bring me luck, but again—habits of speech tend not to catch up with the heart. The poem is about anti-luck, or, as the late American poet William Stafford called it,

The Little Ways that Encourage Good Fortune

Wisdom is having things right in your life
and knowing why.
If you do not have things right in your life,
you will simply be overwhelmed.
You may be heroic, but you will not be wise.
If you have things right in your life, and you
do not know why, you are just lucky,
And you will not move in the little ways that
encourage good fortune.
The saddest of all are those who are not right
in their own lives who are acting to make
things right for others.
They act only from the self, and that
self will never be right;
No luck, no help, no wisdom.

—William Stafford
(1914-1993)
©  1960, 1998 The Estate of William Stafford
Used with Permission of the Executor, Kim Stafford

When I emailed the poet’s son, Kim Stafford, asking for permission to reproduce this gem of a poem, I wrote that this is likely to be one of the poems I’d like read at my funeral. His reply?

“Perhaps the poem is more useful in the midst of life, when one can act so as to encourage the little ways …?”

And of course it is, which is why I’m sharing it with you here, thanks to Kim Stafford’s good offices, and why I’ve always kept it close to my heart, where old speech habits—even reflexively wishing someone good luck—sometimes lag behind.

Kim also shared something his father once said: “I must be willingly fallible to deserve a place in the realm where miracles happen.”

So I won’t wish good luck for myself, or for my husband or our boys. I shall will myself—and them—to be fallible in order to reside in the realm where miracles happen.

I wish that for you, too.

Note: Kim Stafford is an associate professor at the Lewis & Clark Graduate School of Education and Counseling in Portland, Oregon, where he directs the Northwest Writing Institute. He tells me that he and his colleagues are at work planning “The William Stafford Centennial, 2014: 100 Years of Poetry and Peace.”

‘Thank You for Shopping at the Man Store’

03 Monday Dec 2012

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

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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.

The ‘L’ Word

20 Saturday Oct 2012

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

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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”

 

The Midlife Second Wife Joins “Katie” as a Featured Blogger on Monday, Oct. 22

18 Thursday Oct 2012

Posted by in Love, Relationships and Family Life, Special Events, What's the Buzz?

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The elegant set of ‘Katie.’ The show is taped at ABC Studios in New York and syndicated across the United States.

(MONDAY, OCT. 22, 2012)—UPDATE: I learned late last night that the segment featuring Dr. Terri Orbuch has been postponed and will be rescheduled. When the producers announce a new air date I will let you know. Hope you can tune in to watch Academy Award-winning actress Susan Sarandon speak with Katie Couric and see both women engage in a bit of competitive sport!

The call came on a Monday in August, about a week after I had returned home to Richmond following the BlogHer conference in New York City. On the line was Brittany Jones-Cooper, a producer of Katie, Katie Couric’s new syndicated daytime talk show.

She and Couric had been at the BlogHer conference—Couric was featured in one of several keynote interviews, engaging in a lively discussion with BlogHer cofounder Lisa Stone, and issuing a clarion call for bloggers to participate in her new show. The television legend certainly came to the right place!

And, it would seem, so did I.

Back to that phone call. Couric’s producer had seen my blog, liked what I wrote, and asked if I could be in ABC Studios in New York on Thursday for a taping. Couric has employed several ingenious methods of integrating social media into her program; one way is to have two bloggers in the audience for each show. The theme of this particular program would be divorce.

Now as we all know, I happen to know a little bit about that subject.

And so it was that three days later, my husband John, who grew up about 20 minutes outside of the city, drove me into Manhattan. A bonus of the trip? We’d take some time to explore all of the landmarks of his youth—something I’d wanted to do ever since meeting him.

What a whirlwind! Just arrived backstage at the ABC Studios, still wearing my traveling clothes. TMSW got dressed and made up in record time!

I’m in the cobalt blue jacket, wearing a necklace and an Apple MacBook Pro. At my right is blogger Deesha Philyaw, of ‘Co-Parenting 101.’

You’re reading about all of this now because the program I was invited to attend airs on Monday, Oct. 22, at 3 p.m. on NBC12 in the Richmond market. You’ll want to visit the Katie website to check your local listings; in some markets the program airs at 2 p.m.

Katie Couric chats with the audience before the taping. Check out her gorgeous shoes!

The featured guest? One of my favorite actresses—the smart, sultry, simply ageless Susan Sarandon—as admired for her social activism as she is for her award-winning performances. Single after a long-term partnership with actor Tim Robbins, she turned 66 earlier this month; she shares her thoughts about commitment, relationships, and what it’s like to be an older—albeit steadily working—actress in Hollwood. Also on the show is Dr. Terri Orbuch, aka ‘the love doctor,’ offering useful marital advice—from a surprising source.

After the taping, Sarandon and her two dogs, Rigby and Penny, posed for pictures with Katie. Remind me to tell you a cute story about Rigby!

The colorfully-garbed audience of ‘Katie’

I’ll be tweeting LIVE during the broadcast beginning at 3 p.m. Eastern Time. If you’re not already following me on Twitter, please hop over to the next window and click “follow.”

The producer also asked me to write an essay for the program’s website about finding love after divorce. (I happen to know a little something about that, too.) KatieCouric.com published “Learning to Love Again” on Oct. 22, 2012. The post appears as “The ‘L’ Word” on this blog.

I hope you’ll have a chance to tune in or follow my LIVE tweets during the broadcast. Enjoy! And as always, thanks for reading!

The One-Year Blogiversary of The Midlife Second Wife

24 Friday Aug 2012

Posted by in Special Events, What's the Buzz?

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Happy anniversary, TMSW! Read through this post for important news about a giveaway to celebrate our first year together!

The month of August is an important one for me as far as anniversaries go. For starters (and most importantly), John and I got married on August 14, 2010. Then, one year and ten days later, I began publishing The Midlife Second Wife. If you’re counting along with me, that means today, August 24, 2012, is the blog’s first anniversary, or “blogiversary,” to employ a technical term. (I’ve learned a lot of blogging jargon since embarking on this social media journey, and yet have miles to go before I sleep.) This past year has been a fascinating time—filled with wonder, exploration, discoveries, and new friends. Please join me as I look back at a year in the life of a blog.

Readership
It’s all well and good to talk about marketing, SEOs, awards, and metrics, but there’s no doubt in my mind what brings the greatest value to the Midlife Second Wife the blog, and holds the most meaning to the Midlife Second Wife the blogger (that would be me). In a word: readers. Or in another word, you. Every time you hit “like” on a post, or comment, or share a blog link on Facebook or Twitter; every time you bring a new reader into the fold; every time you even click open that new post waiting hopefully in your inbox, it’s kind of like the bell ringing in that great Frank Capra film, It’s a Wonderful Life—an angel blogger gets her wings. This blog would have precious little meaning if it weren’t for you, gentle reader. Thank you for your support and continued interest.

MorgueFile image
This angel blogger just earned her wings

You might like to know that as of today, there are 555 of you who subscribe to the blog—either through email or on Twitter. Put another way, that’s as though more than one-and-a-half new readers signed on each day last year. Wow. Just wow. And while we’re on the subject of readers, as of today the blog welcomed a grand total of 24,308 visitors to its portal (An ephemeral number that has changed already because you are reading this now. But at 24,308, that is  1,706 more than the entire population of Avon Lake, Ohio, as of July 2011, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.)

And where have you all been coming from? Well, most of you live in areas throughout the United States and Canada, as you might expect. But you also hail from the United Kingdom, India, Australia, The Netherlands, Italy, Ireland, Uruguay, Brazil, France, the Russian Federation, Montenegro, Sudan, Israel, and Denmark.

While we’re on the subject of numbers, I should also add (the pun is intentional) that 66 people “like” TMSW on Facebook. Would you like to help push that number up to 100? Please encourage your friends and family to like the blog on Facebook. I’m giving away a prize to the 100th liker. That’s pronounced LIKE-er, not liquor. And no, the prize isn’t a bottle of vodka. It has more permanence than that!

I should also say a word about The Midlife Second Wives’ Club. As previously announced, the first 110 subscribers to the blog automatically became charter members of this newly-minted association. About half of them have already received something in the mail from me, and I hope to get the rest of the mailings out before the end of the year. Although I don’t have a designated page for the club on the blog just yet, I do hope to get to that in the coming months. In the meantime, I invite you to think of names for other membership levels. There will be more on all of this in a future post.

Writing
I mentioned metrics earlier, and would like to digress a moment to pass along an observation. As many of you know, I began my writing life as a poet. Back in the day, metrics meant the scansion of my poetic line. Now, in the Age of Social Media, it has taken on a whole new flavor. A blogger’s success is measured not by the stressed and unstressed syllables in her sentences, but by the number of unique visitors to her site, whether they click through on ads and what-not, and, well, you get the picture. This is what measures a blogger’s worth, at least in ROI (Return on Investment) terms. But in ROW terms—Return on Writing, I proclaim my metrics stratospheric. Advertisers, do you care? Readers, I think you do and so I will explain.

This blog has allowed me to do something I’ve not really had the chance to do before: set aside time to write. Before, when I worked full-time, I wrote all day long, but for my employer, not for myself. And if any of you write for someone else for a living, you know that you’re often left too drained to create work of your own. But when you blog, you blog for yourself (and your readers). Speaking only for myself as a writer, I find there is nothing richer or more satisfying than knowing I have an opportunity to clarify my own thoughts, using words and tones and rhythms of my choosing. And, of course, there’s the immediacy and intimacy of the inbox—knowing that what I’ve written has resounded with someone else. In fact, the very first daily writing challenge that I did, sponsored by BlogHer, resulted in an essay about writing that the publishing network syndicated. And paid me for. When I checked a moment ago, that one post was read 5,636 times. This is quite astonishing to me, because I’m still adjusting to having so many readers. To quote Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, “I am amazed and know not what to say.”

Oberon, Titania and Puck with Fairies Dancing....

Oberon, Titania and Puck with Fairies Dancing. From William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Writing this blog has also resulted in at least one book-length manuscript-in-progress. I attribute this to the BlogHer writing challenge (also known as NaBloPoMo) I just mentioned.

Accolades
The manuscript that is emerging from BlogHer’s daily writing challenge is for a book about my mother, and BlogHer honored the post that started it all earlier this month with a Voice of the Year award at their national convention in New York City. As noted in an earlier post, the essay, “Have You Met My Daughter?,” will appear in an electronic anthology featuring other VOTY winners. BlogHer and Open Road Integrated Media are jointly publishing the e-book.

Last November, WordPress, my blogging platform, featured TMSW on its “Freshly Pressed” site, an event that brought more than 5,000 visitors to the blog in less than two days. Also that month, a funny thing happened that I also attribute to blogging, although indirectly. I submitted a humorous essay to a contest sponsored by Marlo Thomas on her Facebook page, and was one of five winners chosen. The prize? Two tickets to see “That Girl” in the play Relatively Speaking on Broadway. Of course the essay, and the enjoyable experiences that ensued, ended up on the blog.

Photo credit: Marlo Thomas’ Facebook Page

TMSW has also won a few awards from other bloggers: the Liebster, the Versatile Blogger Award, and one I haven’t even had time to properly showcase yet—the Illuminating Blogger Award. To the kind food blogger who bestowed that upon me, I promise to give it its due soon. I’ve just been a little busy.

And I’m pretty proud of this one, especially given my love of coffee. Zabar‘s featured me on their blog. (In the interest of full disclosure, I did not receive either a lifetime supply of coffee or rugelach. Darn it.)

Opportunities
Earlier this month, I attended the aforementioned (and phenomenal) BlogHer Conference in New York, where I learned enough about social media to know that I still have tons to learn. I also met many incredible, bright, talented, and fun women, and joined up with some of them on a Facebook page for Bloggers Over 45. (Hi everyone!)

There’s also something else—something REALLY AWESOME AND AMAZING—that I just can’t tell you about yet. But when I am in a position to do so, you’ll read about it here.

Looking Ahead
I want to continue bringing you the best writing that I can, and the most interesting posts and articles. I hope to beef up the different sections of the blog, and I really long to enhance the look of it. I want to shelve all my books in the “Open Book” library, and experiment with new recipes for you to try. If you have a story idea, please let me know about it. There’s a contact link at the top of the page, or you can leave a comment at the end of this post. Either way, please stay in touch!

Thank you for indulging me in these few moments of revery. It’s a satisfying exercise to look back and take stock. I hope this first year of The Midlife Second Wife has been as enjoyable for you to read as it has been for me to write. Thanks again for being here.

And don’t forget! The 100th person to “like” The Midlife Second Wife on Facebook will receive a prize. If you know someone who should be reading this blog, who will love this blog, or who needs this blog, let them know and encourage them to like it on Facebook. And if you haven’t done so already, please take a moment and do it yourself, right now. It only takes a click, and you might be the 100th clicker. (If bells and whistles begin to blow, please let me know. I’ll try to find out how the Internet does that.)

Image representing Facebook as depicted in Cru...

Image via CrunchBase

Cheers, dear friends!

The Light Shines On: Our Second Wedding Anniversary

12 Sunday Aug 2012

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

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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.