40 years ago this month, Kathy and I were married in Lackawanna, New York. I remember that day very well; a hot, somewhat humid day, all of our friends and family present for that very special day, ready to begin our life together. I also recall, vividly, the first time we ever met, on the urban campus of Buffalo State College. Looking back on that day, I also recall that it was more by chance than by plan, that we were tossed into in the same place at the exact same point in time. And it was all because of a quick and friendly game of pinocle.
Three weeks prior to the encounter that would change my life, I had never even played pinocle. In fact, I never had an inclination to play the game. I, like so many of my friends, preferred poker or blackjack. Two very “manly” games that also added the distinct possibility that my spending, and yes, at that time, drinking money, would increase. Pinocle was for the older crowd, who usually gathered in the basements of church events or at Friday fish fries, that were, and still are, all the rage in western New York. And now, I had to learn how to play pinocle, to help out a friend.
This friend, who was also my campaign manager, as I was running for Freshman class representative, a race I later won; was deeply enamored of a girl he had “met” in one of his classes. He described her as beautiful, outgoing, smart and most importantly to him, available. In my friend’s mind available meant she did not have a boyfriend she would admit to and had not instantly rejected him. That fact alone led me to question her sanity as my friend was, well, a little bit over-bearing. The very same qualities that helped me get elected almost always drove off any potential female like the plague. I knew this to be true because were had been friends since high school and I had been witness to countless female rejections. I did admire his tenacity, however, because each inevitable rejection only made him try harder. He simply never quit.
This time, however, he had somehow involved me in his plot. He told me that the game would take place in the office of our campus newspaper, where she was a reporter. I needed the publicity for my campaign and, even after telling my friend I could not and would not play pinocle, had no desire to learn and would not really help him out all that much, he still insisted and so, I began my 3 week journey toward destiny. I learned how to be his partner, gathered information on melds and trump and after a seemingly endless process of practice games and strategy sessions, I was declared ready for the big day. If only I knew how big that day would ultimately become.
I arrived with him for the big game and was introduced to Kathy, his new potential girlfriend. She was all that he had said she would be. Beautiful, funny, smart, insightful and full of energy and spirit. She was kind, understanding, willing to joke around and, as became obvious after about 10 minutes, completely and totally uninterested in my friend. With each passing hand, as we talked and played, I discovered that I craved to learn more about her. Time was running out, the game was almost over and the play had come to me. I looked at my hand and suddenly realized, I had a winning play remaining. A winning move, not just in the card game, but for my entire future. Gathering all of my remaining courage and mixing it in with whatever pinocle skills I had picked up in the past 3 weeks, I confidently trumped her ace….and we won the game. As I later discovered, I had also won her heart.
Looking back on that day many times during these past decades, I have come to realize that a higher power was involved that late fall afternoon in Buffalo, New York. I never should have been in that room, I did not even like to play pinocle. I would never have agreed to play, had it not been for my friend and his latest infatuation. I never would have gone, even then, if I had not needed the endorsement of the paper. (which I would never receive, by the way.) I had a girlfriend, of sorts, she had gone to a different college and we had agreed that we would not be exclusive during college. I never should have been there, but yet, I was. And the rest, as they say, is history.
My friend soon realized that my future wife was not interested in him. I asked if he would mind if I tried to date her, and he reluctantly agreed, assuming as he always did, that she would soon tire of me and he would be there to jump in and save the day. It never worked out according to his plan. My plan was the winner and 4 years later I would watch her walk down the aisle in into my life, forever. I was meant to trump her ace and we were meant to be together. Sometimes God intervenes and leads us where we were really meant to go. This was most definitely one of those days.
I never fully comprehended that fact until just about a year ago. I was traveling on business, as I have done many times during our marriage. As often happens, my flight was delayed, and then delayed yet again. I had secured a day pass to an airline lounge and since I was on a 3 hour delay, I chose to spend that time in a relaxing and quiet environment, rather than the noise and discomfort of the boarding area. I sat at the bar and struck up a conversation with the bartender, who informed me that the elderly couple, seated off to my left, were celebrating 70 years of marriage! Their flight had also been delayed and the airlines had apologized to them, since they were heading to a celebration of that marvelous event. The airline had also given the happy couple a pass to the airline club and ordered them a bottle of champagne That same bubbly the bartender was now getting ready to take to their table. He asked me if I wanted to join in the toast. I agreed.
Following the toast, the elderly gentleman walked up to the bar to thank the bartender. He mumbled something about it just being his job and then he turned to me and shook my hand in thanks. I decided to seize the moment and asked him a question that I was certain he had been asked many times before, but was one I really wanted to have answered. I looked him directly in the eyes and asked, “What is the secret to being married for 70 years?” Without hesitation, he replied, “Pick the right woman the first time.” He then returned to his table and the love of his life. Through the gift of God, I have also been just as fortunate. I have also picked the right woman the first time, but I did not do it alone.
There is a picture hanging in our bedroom, a picture taken on that warm summer afternoon, 40 years ago this week. It reveals a couple, 22 years of age, standing under a tree in the Botanical Gardens of Lackawanna, New York. That couple is staring off into the distance, heads raised, as if contemplating their future; which is exactly what our photographer had requested us to do at that moment. At that point in our lives we never could have begun to imagine what 40 years in the future would heap upon us…. a wonderful family, two terrific children, now 10 years older than we were when that picture was taken and a marvelous history together, that has brought us so many treasured memories. It has not always been easy, but it has always been magical, there is no doubt about that. I would not trade even one moment for anything else, we have been so blessed!
Something special was truly at work during that pinocle card game 44 years ago. I trumped an ace and got an even better one back in return. The old man in the airline club was right. “Pick the right woman the first time.” What he did not say was “Never leave such an important choice to chance.” I had someone looking over my shoulder during that card game so long ago. And He has been with the both of us every day since.
May your choice also have His input and guidance. Happy 40th, Kak!! Our adventure is just getting started….