I was doing the last-minute anniversary card shuffle and thinking, "Give me a break" as I slammed another reject back into its slot.
I wasn't alone in my frustration.
The guy next to me was having just as much luck finding a card for his wife of 12 years.
"I think single people must write these cards," he said in disgust.
Uh-huh - single people who have their heads in the sand and evidently still believe in those "happily ever after" fairy tale endings.
The year was 1989, and anniversary No. 9 for hubby and me was landing smack in the middle of a pretty tough stretch. The past few years had been a time of incredible struggle and personal loss for us, the worst being the death of our 5-year-old daughter, who had succumbed to leukemia.
On top of that, we were teetering on the edge of a financial downfall that would eventually drive us out of our home and away from family and friends and have us heading 1,700 miles south to Florida to start over.
The material loss wasn't the worst that could happen to us - a new, hard-earned perspective told us that. Still, it added to the stress.
Looking back, I see 1989 as one of those make it or break it years.
Those who have been through these kinds of fires have been known to say, "What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger." I believe that. But when you're in the thick of it, you realize how hard it can be to help someone else stay afloat - especially when you're drowning in your own grief.
The sappy "I'm thankful for all the wonderful years we have had together" and "I'm so happy you made all my dreams come true" anniversary sentiments weren't helping any. I was looking for something more along the lines of our then-philosophy: "Life stinks and then you live." And I was getting mighty ticked off at the whole greeting card industry.
I finally gave up on my quest, grabbed a blank card and wrote something not so sappy: "Life's been a big pile of c---. Let's keep on truckin'."
Somehow, like many other couples out there, we did manage to keep on truckin'. Recently, my husband and I celebrated 23 years of what I call "wedded whatever."
Not that there haven't been blissful moments. Indeed, there have been times of great joy and renewal, among them the births of two daughters, the coming of age of a son, the fostering of new friendships and the purchasing of a home to call our own.
While I can't remember exactly when, somewhere along the line hubby and I declared anniversary cards optional.
To its credit, it seems that the greeting card industry has hired some married people who know all about dysfunctional relationships. And while I haven't yet seen any "Isn't it great we made it through this year without killing each other" cards, there are more that address the ups and downs of typical married life.
Still, as someone who clips coupons and cuts Olay disposable face cloths in half so that a package lasts twice as long, I have a tough time paying four or five bucks for someone else's sentiments, even if they do, in some way, mirror my own.
Besides, anniversary No. 23 has me realizing that the message I wrote to my husband in 1989 is ever enduring, though I've added a little to it:
Life's been a big pile of c---.
But it's also been a bed of roses.
In a very real way, you can't have one without the other.
