Joan and I celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary in August. We got married in a civil ceremony in a 99 year old courthouse in Algiers, Louisiana by the only female circuit court Judge, Mary “KK” Norman, who retired in 2014.
Inevitably, the question arises: What’s the secret? How do you keep a love affair going for 30 years? What’s the mantra?
Compassion, compromise, communication.
Compassion means you really feel the other person’s feelings, whether they’re happy, sad, angry or a mixture. You “get” them. And you try to either add to their joy or lessen their sorrow. Anger has to work itself out on its own time and there’s no right way to do that, except, usually, get out of the other person’s way. It means often, but not always, putting the other person’s needs and wants ahead of your own and often, not always, discovering that those needs and wants dovetail pretty nicely with yours. When Joan and I first got together, I thought we were radically different from each other, but, as it turns out, we share many of the same views and feelings about things. Maybe we just rubbed off on each other.
Compromise has taken on a negative connotation due to its alignment with politics. In actuality, we all cheer on bipartisan, bilateral compromises, where each side gains a little in exchange for something it wants but probably can’t or shouldn’t have.
But, compromise is how most relationships survive. She wants to watch a foreign, sub-titled film, I want to watch an action movie. We watch hers and I’m delightfully surprised to find that I love it. She turns and smiles “I thought you’d like this.” That’s love.
And, besides, I can always watch the action movie on my own or with friends while she finishes the last “Sex And The City” series (which, by the way, fell short of expectations.)
I could write an entire book about the importance of communication. My first marriage failed because of a lack of it. We were really bad at telling each other what we wanted and needed. “It would be nice to have a boat” does not automatically shout “I want a boat!” to an unemployed teacher-turned-screenwriter. It didn’t in our case.
Communication takes place on a number of levels. It doesn’t always have to be verbal. Sometimes a simple “Uhhuh” or a nod will do. Sometimes it’s THAT look. Sometimes angry words are spoken and eventually taken back. Sometimes you forget to say “I love you.” But, sometimes, when your partner is at their lowest, you can find just the right words to ease their pain or make them snort laugh, which is the best. If I can get Joan to laugh once during the day, I consider that day a complete success.
And it has been a long and winding road to here. I was born in the Bronx and moved to Queens at age 8. Joan was born in Manhattan and has lived in all five boroughs and, for a few years, in California. We met through mutual friends for the first time in 1969 and did not take to each other. Thirty years later, at our friends’ wedding, things were much different.
We lived for a while on St. Mark’s Place, with a year long residency on Carroll. We moved to Beach Street in 2003, right as the area was booming and then, this year in May of 2025, we began our occupancy in West Brighton.
No matter where you live, you have to make adjustments. But, as Billy Joel once sang, the place where your loved one lives is your home. Some folks need certain accommodations to feel safe and secure. All Joan and I need, really, is each other. We can make the best out of the worst and enjoy the best with gratitude. We have disagreements, we take out the trash together, clean the house, relax with a book or a movie. Lately, because of our closeness to three bus lines, we have traveled into the city more often.
This year, to celebrate, we had a “Stayanniversary.” We used our house as home base and traveled in and back from the city to view exhibits, a play on Broadway and enjoy a delicious lunch at Veselka, a restaurant in Manhattan that has come to mean a lot to us. Next year, we may travel, or not. We’ll see how this goes.
The thing is, we commit to each other each day. There have been days when we don’t greet each other warmly or at all. Days when we can’t wait to wake up to each other. Days that go terribly wrong or fantastically right. Through it all, you have to stay committed to your partner.
Nobody ever thinks they’ll have to make good on the small print of the marriage contract, the part that says “sickness or in health,” but, if you’re together long enough, you will. And it takes a toll on both of you. Still, you have to draw strength from each other in ways you didn’t expect. If your marriage is solid, you can and you will.
I wish all the couples I know especially those just starting out, long and happy marriages filled with laughter, true joy, love, magical memories and few regrets. If Joanie and I can make it, so can you.
Stay true. Stay in love. Stay strong for and with each other.
And hold those magnificent grey heads high!
Thanks to Walter Weeks for suggesting this column.