Celebration Delayed

 

Last night, we finally celebrated our 55^th anniversary with dinner at the Anaheim White House Restaurant. It has been a favorite since a friend recommended it to us nine years ago. Early in the pandemic, we decided to support our favorite restaurants. We bought a gift certificate from the White House for a future meal.

 

Because of this purchase, we have been receiving emails about their reopening for dining—outside and distanced.

 

This week, we received notification of their Restaurant Week menu. When I saw it, I suggested we use our gift certificate to belatedly celebrate our anniversary.

 

The actual date is September 4, but we were too busy to really celebrate. After a rough few week, we both needed a relaxing escape. The email was just the prompt to take a much-needed break.

 

I requested a reservation, and we got it right away. Of course, it was a week night, so we didn’t have much concern. (There were quite a few others there—masked and distanced outside.) This menu is only active through Saturday.

 

We arrived a bit early because we had expected more traffic than we encountered. We valet parked the car and walked to the entrance, where we had our temperatures taken and used hand sanitizer.

 

Even though we were early, we were seated at a lovely table near the fountain. The weather was spectacular—comfortable with a light breeze and clear skies. (No smoke from the fires remained in the air.)

 

Our waiter, James, brought us water, and we just relaxed and enjoyed their playlist of older Italian songs. We finally relaxed and relished the evening and being together.

 

I know you want to hear about the food, and we would be remiss if we didn’t talk about it. (We neglected to take pictures of it as it arrived.) Each course was set in front of us, and then an ultraviolet light was wafted over the plate—additional precaution.

 

For our appetizer we both chose the Tempura Artichoke Hearts. Delicious! As we always expect, the presentation was beautiful. I tried to pace myself, so Larry “helped” finish mine.

 

For the salad course, we decided to order one of each. Larry had the mixed greens with a terrific passion fruit and ginger vinaigrette. I chose the Caesar salad. Both were served, once again beautifully, in an edible rice paper container.

 

As we were finishing our salads, the song “Walk Hand in Head” came on the playlist. Most people probably don’t remember it, but I have always loved it, and it was sung at our wedding. As Larry said, “Another nice anniversary gift.”

 

By the time our entrée arrived, live music by a singer with guitar began. He was delightful.

Actually, the entrée was the main reason I wanted to go. I adore Chicken Cordon Bleu, and it was included. It said it was served with “seasonal vegetables.” In this case, it was butternut squash puree. Absolutely fantastic.

Larry had a tougher decision. He finally settled on the Salmon Chocolat. (I suspect it was the promise of sweetness that won him over.) It was served with white chocolate mashed potatoes. He let me taste, and they were very good—and sweet—but I preferred my own meal.

Once again, Larry volunteered to “help” with mine. Because it was a generous portion, I just couldn’t finish it. He enjoyed both our entrées.

Of course, there was dessert. We consider ourselves somewhat expert on Crème Brule. During both our trips to France, we compared this delight throughout the country. (We decided the restaurant near the Eiffel Tower had the best.) Last night’s was equally delicious—creamy with crisp brûléed sugar on the top.

To our surprise, we also received a lovely “extra” for our anniversary. (We brought it home to eat later. (It probably won’t last out the day today!)

We had a wonderful evening and a genuinely joyous celebration.

How can it be fifty-five years? it has gone by far too quickly, but both of us would do it all again!

Larry’s 50th Anniversary Thoughts – 9/5/2015

I recently went through the photos of our 50th anniversary and created a video of the celebration and party. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeuEBcKPNXg

I also found the audio recording of the ceremony. I have now transcribed each of them, and I'll share them with you for the next four weeks, starting with Larry's.

When I was growing up, I didn’t realize what a fabulous family I had. Lorna clued me in on this when she joined it. Not just my parents, who were wonderful, but the grandparents, the aunts, the uncles, the cousins. It was a family where everybody liked each other, and everyone wanted to be together. Kind of amazing, and family meant everything.

My grandparents, Tom and Olive Collins, set the tone. They were North Dakota farmers. They had six children, four boys and two girls. When my dad was eight (he was the youngest), he’d had pneumonia twice, and the doctor said he would not survive another North Dakota winter. So, in the winter of 1925, they literally sold the farm (they were farmers), loaded everyone, including grandfather Halliday, into a Model A Ford and Chevrolet touring car, and they drove from North Dakota to California because it was warmer. Why? Because that’s what family did.

Crossing Texas

Family dinners were the glue that held us together for a long time. It doesn’t mean communication always worked. Collins men tend to be somewhat clueless. Lorna can attest to that. Kim can, too.

For example, in 1926, the family was enjoying dinner. The oldest son, Clark, said, “Mama, tomorrow you’re going to lose your baby boy.” Granny said, “Why? Are you going somewhere?” He said, “No. I’m getting married.” In twelve hours, Granny had organized the garden wedding, enlisted the local pastor because a justice of the peace just wouldn’t do, and cooked the dinner for all the guests who attended. And Lura joined the family.

With Granny, there was no such thing as in-laws. If you were there, you were family. In fact, it was really hard for a stranger to tell who was family and who were in-laws. You really couldn’t tell when you came to visit.

Until my grandfather died, every Sunday after church, the whole family met at my grandparents’ house for dinner. Now, you have to remember, this was six kids, their spouses, their children, and any friends who showed up, plus anyone else who happened to wander by. There were forty-to-forty-five people there every Sunday for dinner.

Granny was a fabulous cook and she loved doing it. In later years, we had to convince her to go potluck. From then on, we did, but always at their house.

They were married for sixty-three years. I was ten years old at their fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration. It was so big it made the newspaper―a half-page spread with pictures. Of the six kids, five were married, four were married longer than sixty years, and Clark and Lura were married for more than seventy years. There were a lot of anniversary celebrations and other events.

Tom & Olive’s 50^th Anniversary – Clark, Francis, Wanda, Olive, Tom, June, Wayne, Murl

At those Sunday dinners, I remember singing. If the guys weren’t playing poker for matchsticks in the other room, the boys sang. A friend of Granny’s said, “All of Ollie’s boys can sing.” They sang four-part harmony around the pump organ.

My folks carried on the tradition of putting family first. On weekends at the mobile home in Dana Point, we all got together and ate dinner. My folks, Murl and Letha, celebrated their sixtieth anniversary right downstairs where we’ll all be in a few minutes. We had a wonderful party for them. They were married sixty-seven years, and they loved each other every single day.

60^th Anniversary – Letha and Murl

So, for Lorna and me, at fifty years, we’re kind of loping along. We have a way to go to catch up, which we plan to do. We had a family who showed us the way to do it, for which I am eternally grateful.

Next week: Lorna's thoughts

Guest Blogger - Marilyn Meredith

Today my dear friend and favorite mystery writer, Marilyn Meredith, is my guest. We met at EPICon in San Antonio, Texas in 2006 when our first book, 31 Months in Japan: The Building of a Theme Park was one of two nonfiction finalists. We arrived a day early. The gal who was supposed to be in charge of the book room had emergency surgery, so they asked for volunteers. This was where Larry and I met Marilyn and her husband, Hap. We hit it off right away and spent several hours getting to know them. We attended other EPICons in Portland, OR, Las Vegas, NV, and a couple of others in San Antonio in addition to the ones Marilyn mentions below. When our mutual publisher died, Larry and I re-edited an republished twelve of Marilyn's books--including a couple she had forgotten about (like her cookbook). When the publisher of her Deputy Tempe Crabtree series closed its doors this summer, we again re-edited and re-published all new editions. She now owns them all and will never lose her rights again. She and Hap are very dear friends, and I am pleased to have her here as my guest.

FRIENDSHIPS

Today is my 68^th wedding anniversary. If you find that hard to believe, so do I. My husband has not only been the love of my life, he’s also been my best friend. We’ve been through all sorts of problems and wonderful experiences. The secret to the longevity of our marriage? Never giving up.

Today, I want to expound on another friendship, the one I have with the hostess of this blog, Lorna Collins. I have no idea how long we’ve been friends but I have some great memories shared with her and her husband.

An early one was at an EPICon in Virginia Beach in the dead of winter. We were in a great resort hotel with no one there but the members of our group.

Many of our times together were spent at EPICons, and I remember two special ones in San Antonio Texas, as well as in Oklahoma and other places. We had a wonderful time in Monterey for a Left Coast Crime.

However, my favorite memory is when my husband and I traveled to visit Lorna and her husband, Larry, at their home in Dana Point. It was a most special time.

Lorna and her husband are the ones who rescued my Deputy Tempe Crabtree series when the publishing house closed its doors. Lorna re-edited each one and put them up on Amazon, and her husband redid the covers.  I can’t thank them enough.

One other big link between Lorna and me is the fact that we celebrate our birthdays on the same day. Over the years, we’ve discovered we share many traits. Often I’ve called her my daughter from a different mother. Not everyone is as fortunate as I am to have a friend like Lorna.

In my latest book, Bones in the Attic, which Lorna edited for me, there are many important friendships—those between the police officers who work together, and the ongoing friendship of two teens, who both have seen trauma in their lives.

I bet Lorna can remember other places we’ve been together.

Marilyn

The discovery of a skeleton, a welfare check on a senior citizen, and a wildfire challenge the Rocky Bluff P.D.

Buy link: https://tinyurl.com/yxpd8mxy

Marilyn Meredith, who writes the RBPD mystery series as F.M. Meredith, is the author of over 40 published books. She once lived in a small beach town much like Rocky Bluff, and has many relatives and friends in law enforcement.

Webpage: http://fictionforyou.com/

Blog: https://marilynmeredith.blogspot.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/marilyn.meredith

Twitter: https://twitter.com/marilynmeredith/

And she’s a regular on these blogs:

2^nd and 4^th Tuesday: https://makeminemystery.blogspot.com/

4^th Monday of the month: https://ladiesofmystery.com/

Lasting Love - Part 4

I’m continuing my series on some of the reasons we have managed to stay together all these years. Here’s another.

4    Communication

When we were first married, I expected Larry to know what I needed by osmosis. I figured if he loved me, he’d figure it out. Didn’t happen.

I tried hinting. That didn’t work either.

I finally figured out guys were just clueless.

Fortunately, early in our marriage, we attended a couple’s retreat. The leader asked, “Are you mind readers?” We shook our heads. “Then how can either of your know what the other needs or wants? You have to tell each other. Men don’t do subtle. They need direct answers.”

I hadn’t thought about it in those terms. How could he know my needs if I didn’t tell him?

.

A few years later, I read the book Love, No Strings Attached. It changed my life so much that I led a study on it at church. One of the techniques the author suggests is for each partner to write two lists:

·         What I need to feel loved

·         What I do to show you my love

Then we numbered the first list from most important to least.

We exchanged lists. What a surprise! Larry didn’t know how important remembering birthdays and special occasions was to me. (Number one on my list.) I didn’t know he showed his love by washing my car. (I just thought he wanted clean cars.)

I learned to tell him when I needed something without waiting for him to figure it out on his own. And he learned to listen.

I also think it’s important to say the words, “I love you.”

Larry’s mother told me once the only time Dad told her he loved her was on their wedding day. Their pattern was that she said, “I love you, Murl,” and he replied, “Me, too.”

I used this as a theme in “Finding Love in Paradise,” my novella in our award-winning romance anthology, Directions of Love. (I also included Larry’s non-proposal in this one.)

Dad showed Mother his love her entire life, but he almost never said the words.

Larry, on the other hand, has said them often—at least two or three times a day. The words matter to me, and he knows it.

From another couples’ retreat, we learned to be more effective in our communication by using ‘on a scale from one to ten’ to indicate how much we want (or don’t want) to do something. I remember one time when Larry wanted to see a really stupid (IMHO) movie. When he asked if I wanted to go, my answer was, "Is there anything less than zero?”

He took Kim, and I took a bubble bath, got into bed, and read for the evening. We were both happy, and we both knew we’d gotten what we wanted.

How do you communicate? What kinds of things are most important to you?

Lasting Love - Part 3

I’ve been sharing some ideas about how we’ve managed to remain married for over fifty years. Here’s another.

3. Play Together

Larry’s parents loved to dance. Dad actually danced professionally as a teenager. He and Mother were fabulous ballroom dancers. On their 60^th wedding anniversary, they were still better than we’ll ever be.

Dancing brought them both a great deal of pleasure.

It doesn’t mean they did everything together. Dad was an avid golfer. After they retired, Mother took lessons, but she didn’t really enjoy it. Dad was exceptionally good, and she was never interested enough to improve sufficiently to play at his level. But she enjoyed going with him to tournaments where he competed while she shopped.

Shopping was Mother’s greatest delight. She went out every day—often just to check the stores. Sometimes she’d find an item she liked. She’d check on it for weeks. If it was marked down, she bought it. If it was sold, she figured she didn’t need it.

Four years before their 60^th anniversary, they danced at our daughter, Kimberly’s, wedding. They wowed the crowd at the reception.

One other couple on the floor danced as well: my Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Frank.

They took lessons every week and danced every weekend for years. They celebrated their 72nd wedding anniversary last August. I put together this video to honor them. At the end is a short clip of them dancing at a pumpkin patch last October.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4H05UpTFoM

In 2011, Aunt Evie had a stroke. The first time she was allowed to get out of bed, Uncle Frank held her and danced her around the room. I’m sure it’s one of the reasons she recovered so well physically—she never stopped dancing.

Larry was too intimidated to dance much. So was his brother. With parents as good as theirs, they felt they’d never measure up.

But we found other ways to play together. We love theme parks, and have had annual passes for Disneyland for years. When we were working, we’d often meet at the park for dinner. Then we’d walk around and enjoy the lights, visit the attractions, and watch the people.

Our love of theme parks led to our building of Universal Studios Japan. Living in Japan was difficult, but doing it together got us through. In the end, we felt a great sense of accomplishment. Returning ten years later made us even prouder of the world-class venue we had helped create.

Our sojourn in Japan led us to our second career as authors. When we returned, we wrote our first book: 31 Months in Japan: The Building of a Theme Park.

Now that we’re retired, play includes writing together. Since 2005, we’ve published fourteen books between us, with number fifteen to come soon.

We also love to travel and have visited and vacationed all over the world. Now that we’re authors, we are often asked to speak at conferences and for other groups. We enjoy meeting people and seeing new places.

We each have our own interests, too. Larry still loves surfing and tries to go every weekday. I love spending time with friends, editing, and reading.

Play is just as important for adults as it is for children. How do you like to play?

Lasting Love - Part 2

Last week, I shared one idea about how Larry and I have managed to remain happily married for fifty-plus years. Here’s another.

2. Meaningful Rituals

On our wedding night, Larry told me a story about his grandparents. They were married for sixty-three years before his grandfather’s death. (This photo was taken of his grandparents and their six children at their fiftieth anniversary celebration.)

After his grandfather died, Larry asked his grandmother what she missed most.

“We always kissed goodnight and said we loved each other. Now that he’s gone, I’ve had a hard time getting to sleep without our goodnight kiss.”

Larry told me, “I’d like to start doing the same thing in our marriage.” For over fifty years, we have done the same except when we’re apart.

Early in our marriage, Larry traveled quite a bit for work. He often ate yogurt for dinner and used his food allowance to call home so we could say goodnight and “I love you.”

In 1977, he spent several months working in Alaska. One night he didn’t call, and I couldn’t sleep. I needed to hear his voice, so I finally phoned his hotel in Alaska and received a message that the trunk lines were down.

Even though it was late, the phone rang about half an hour later. Larry couldn’t sleep either. After we said we loved each other, we were finally able to fall asleep.

We also kiss, hug, and say we love each other when we awake in the morning and whenever we part. As soon as we arrived home from work, we located each other for a hug and kiss.

Meaningless rituals don’t serve much purpose. However, one morning, we discovered how important ours were. Larry went downstairs in the morning. I heard the garage door open. Then the car started, pulled out, and the door closed. He hadn’t come back upstairs to say goodbye. I felt as though something important was missing from my day. And I felt sad.

A few minutes later, the phone rang. Larry said, “I was almost at the freeway when I realized we hadn’t said good-bye. I felt terrible.”

We both laughed, and then said we loved each other. I felt much better, and I know Larry did, too.

Do you have any rituals you observe in your relationships?