They ran out of rice, so they threw tapioca...

My mom stood in the reception line at our wedding and said, "Hello, I'm Cass, the mother of the bride, and I give this six weeks." She only said it once and was kidding (I think), but she had good reason. I was barely 20 and the eldest of three, all seven and a half years apart: we had all been brought up as only children. Furthermore, she was well aware of the strong-willed daughter she had raised.

Well, that was 36 years ago today. We made it through tough financial times, three children under the age of four, those same three as teenagers (they accused us of stalking them; we said, "Thank you"), seven presidents, several job changes, a serious illness, paying for two college educations, and I could go on ad nauseum.

Why have we made it this far when many of our contemporaries have not? I have no idea. I think marriage is a strange combination of luck -- a veritable crap-shoot, respect for one another, friendship, a bit of passion (although this is often over-counted on; let's face it, if I see something I haven't seen before in 36 years I should probably shoot it), caring and consideration, and a lot of humor. I have learned in 36 years that shutting my mouth is a good thing. We have learned that going to bed angry is a lot better than arguing while tired and saying things we can never take back. We could always talk things out in the clear of day and after a good night's sleep. We have learned that sometimes there are arguments not worth continuing and that flipping a coin is just as productive, if not more so, than battling things out. We have learned the importance of someone's always having our back and the extreme strength of the words, "I'm sorry."

Could we have married other people and lived happy and complete lives? Sure, we could have. Would I have wanted to? No, I think not. We are a good match.