Thank you Hillary Clinton.

(Posted by Gayle)

I think I may have been given the biggest compliment of my life tonight (you have to consider the source.)   A New York cabbie compared me to Hillary Clinton (no – I wasn’t wearing a pantsuit.)

Our American Airlines flight into NYC was an hour late.  What’s new?  We arrived at the baggage claim at 12:01am.  Ron was off to get our luggage and my job was to call the Fairfield Inn and summon the shuttle.  Sadly the shuttle driver got off at 12:00am.  Okay this was moderately irritating to and I was trying to figure out how to blame Ron for the unfortunate even.  He had, after all, made the reservations, but could I really blame a weather delay on him?  No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t.  For the next 15 minutes tensions mounted as we tried to decide how to transport ourselves from point A to point B.  You don’t how badly I wanted to pick a fight with Ron.  I restrained myself, but I did have, what I call, “BadItude.” Read the rest of this entry »

It may be cold up there, but it’s gonna be really hot!

(Posted by Gayle)

All our bags are packed. We’re ready to go.  New York City, Dixie, Jeff, and their entourage are waiting. People get married all the time and those weddings change lives.  But usually it’s the bride and groom who undergo the most transformation.

Ron and I decided to hitch a ride with the newlyweds-to-be and venture further out of our comfort zones. It’s a ride I’m convinced all couples (even those with no significant age gap) need to be willing to take if they want their marriages to flourish over the years.

Dixie and Jeff aren’t just having a wedding – it’s an event. There will be vintage attire from the (first) depression era, swing dancing, the Broadway production of Guys and Dolls, and lots of new people to meet.

It would have been easy to stay on the periphery. We could have played it safe with our clothing choices.  Ron’s knees and my ankles gave us bona-fide reasons to skip the swing dance lessons (thanks to Dr. Z’s treatments we are doing just great!)  But that just didn’t seem like an option for us.  Why?  Because growing means touching the wall of fear and pushing through it to expand the size of our lives.  We’re not here to just grow up – we want to blossom….again and again and again.  So on Sunday there will be long pearls, a black vintage dress with lace and rhinestones, a fedora, cleavage, rock steps, outward turns and returns, laughter and above all a celebration of love.

The only thing missing will be the evidence of any gap between our ages. We’ve decided to live large…. and long.

You don’t, if you don’t care about keeping your marriage young.

(Posted by Ron)

In honor of all the stretching we are doing right now in preparation for Dixie and Jeff’s wedding, like swing dance lessons, flapper outfits (no gats), and even blogging about our marital adventures for the world to read, we thought this article about change was worth a second run!

I sometimes wonder if it was the last of the innocent times. Life seemed a whole lot simpler. Everyone had a place to fill and a job to do. It was the time of Ozzie and Harriet and we actually believed theirs was how life should be. Dad worked and mom stayed home to take care of the house and the family.

My job was to be a kid. For kids it was the innocent time. The time before parents were afraid for us to stray from their sight. The time when kids could still leave the house and play in the neighborhood without fear of being harmed. We would come home twice during the day, for lunch and for supper. It was a time before soccer practice or dance lessons or driving kids to and from after school commitments. Yes, it was an innocent and simpler time. It really did feel that way.

Dad spent forty-two years at the same job. When he came home each day at 4:30 we immediately sat down to supper as a family. Although mother didn’t wear pearls and high heels when she cooked, as did Harriet and other TV moms, she still had meals ready and on the table at the “correct” times. She kept the house immaculate and we never lacked freshly washed, starched and ironed clothes. After all, her job was to be the mom and she was good at it.

Dad’s job at home was to take care of the lawn and make minor repairs and sit in his chair in the evening and sleep. He didn’t wash dishes. He didn’t wash or iron clothes. He didn’t get us ready for bed. His primary job was to provide for his family and that job was completed outside the four walls of our home.

I remember hearing mom and dad argue only a time or two. I have no idea what they were arguing about. As a child I thought the only person who suffered the wrath of mom or dad was me. They were parents and parents did not argue. They knew their jobs, they did them well, and nothing else needed to be discussed.

Those are the skills and habits that I brought into my “adulthood” when I married at eighteen. I knew that my job was to be the husband and father and my wife’s job was to be the wife and sooner than expected, the mother. We were raised in similar atmospheres. I think we had matching beliefs about our roles.

I was a little more involved in my four childrens’  growth than was my dad, but sadly not much more. In fact, where he was gone eight hours each day I was often gone for weeks at a time since my jobs required me to travel. Like my dad, though, I was being the husband and father. If I provided a place for them to live, food to eat, and clothes to wear I was successful in those roles. Unfortunately, I still did not understand how this “success” damaged my relationships with them.

Relationship training was not part of my childhood. I really had no idea how to have an intimate relationship when I first married. I was married to my first wife for almost twenty five years before we divorced. And you know what? I still didn’t understand relationships or my part in them. But oh boy was I going to learn.

Some secrets are meant to be shared and you don’t have to be in a May December relationship to benefit from ours!

Pass this on…

Read part 2.

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Dear Dancing for Dixie’s wedding Day Diary:

(Posted by Gayle)

Step, step, rock step, turn, step, step, rock step turn, stumble almost fall, step on Ron’s toe, worry about my ankles, wonder if Ron’s knees will survive.

Let go of control,  let Ron learn his part, and FOLLOW him.  Hold my frame, send energy through my arms to Ron.  Oh boy Gille and Cheryl just flew through my mind.  Wait, rewind, Gille with the French accent Gille…. damn why didn’t I go see The Sex and the City movie….he was buck nak……crap which foot am I on?  Left or right?

Okay rock step, look into Ron’s eyes, they are twinkling.  Still looking into his eyes, uh oh… he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing!  We both laugh…belly laughter!  It’s been a long week.  We needed some good old belly laughter.  We are stretching.  This is this stuff 22 good years are made of.  Neither of us really want to swing dance.  Both of us are dying to swing dance (and we hope we don’t die while swing dancing.)  We wish we had taken time to learn how to dance when we were younger, but we were busy (and scared of looking like fools.)

Now that we’ve aged a bit a we know the fool part is unavoidable – so what the hell… we may as well be dancing fools…

Our adventures with swing dancing, Dixie’s weddings, flappers, and New York City will be chronicled in the days to come.  Want to be a fly on our wall? Subscribe to our RSS feed now and you won’t miss a word!

That’s what mom always said

(Posted by Ron)

We are deep in the midst of preparations to attend a wedding in New York next week.  Dixie, the bride, loves all things about the thirties and forties and has decided to have a Guys and Dolls wedding.  That really sounds like fun except that I have to dress the part and am expected to learn at least a bit about swing dancing.

I’m not having any trouble with the outfit.  Fortunately, men’s cloths do not change a lot over the years so I can wear a suit I already own.  I did have to find the rest of the outfit (shirt, tie, shoes, scarf, fedora, etc.) but even that was simple.  So, unlike Gayle, my outfit is complete and I’m ready to go.  I’m not, however,  ready to dance!

I should already know how to swing dance.  My brother and sister used to dance in our living room in the forties and fifties.  My mom always said they danced so much they wore out the living room carpet.  I talked with my brother today and he said they were doing the jitterbug but it sure looked like swing.  He didn’t remember wearing out the carpet.

When I was a teenager I would go to the dances, but didn’t dance.  Most of the dances were some version of swing but I didn’t want to look silly so I didn’t learn to dance.  I’ve regretted that a lot over the years and especially now when I feel like I’m a little old to learn.  As much as I would like to use my bum knee as an excuse I’m just going to bite the bullet, wrap it tightly, and see if it’s really possible for me to dance.  (You know – “older” dog new trick.)

Did you know there are dance lessons on You Tube?  Neither did I until this week.  Some of the instructors look like they are bored to the bone as they count out step, step, rock step over and over and over ad nauseum.  I doubt that Gayle and I will be wearing out any rugs but at least we tried to follow them.  On Saturday we will actually take a real, live lesson.  I can hardly wait but I’m sure there will be additional blogs about this subject soon.

By the way.  Does anyone know where to get the male equivalent of Spanks just for the stomach?

See you on Dancing With The Stars!

Our adventures with swing dancing, Dixie’s weddings, flappers, and New York City will be chronicled over the next 12 days.  Want to be a fly on our wall? Subscribe to our RSS feed now and you won’t miss a word!