Borderline golden
One can imagine the surprise then, about two weeks ago, when my mother dropped the bombshell that my father did indeed, want something done for the event. We had resigned ourselves to a quiet dinner out for the eight of us at one of their favorite restaurants, maybe some cake and ice cream after that and a gift card or two for their favorite places to shop and eat.
Instead, my mother informed my sister and I that our father wanted to have a small reception after church, on the 31st, a day after the anniversary. He even agreed to pay for it. After recovering from our shock, my sister, sister-in-law, and I set to work. However, as in all things Hauenstein, this was not as simple as we thought.
What my father wanted, and my mother didn't convey, was to apparently just pay for a deli tray instead of the normal coffee hour at church. That's what he viewed as a celebration. No cake. No balloons, no outsiders. That, he reasoned, was enough.
And for my dad, it was. This is a man who hates parties. Hates them. He'll make no bones in the preparation stages about wanting any part of the action, and can be downright surly to us and to the guests. Last year, a neighbor, one of God's dear saints, decided to have a neighborhood block party. My father had no desire to go, especially since my sister and mother were going to be out of town and would arrive later. It was my job to make sure he went, no matter how unhappy he was.
He enjoyed himself immensely. The neighbors, who live on the property where he was born and grew up, are delightful. He spent plenty of time reminiscing about his childhood, talking to the other old farmers, and eating good food. It was a shame to see it end, because Dad was having such fun and was one of the last to leave.
My mother is a social butterfly. She likes parties and knows how to enjoy herself and make others part of the fun. She just married a man who doesn't. The party/no party combo is a lot like their marriage for the past 50 years. Opposites do attract.
Somehow, in all of their opposite likes and dislikes, my parents made it work. It was no small feat. That is what we will celebrate. Today, in their mid- to late-70s, they are more in love than when they started out on a July afternoon, at Moreland Methodist Church.
My father hated going anywhere when I was a child, unless it was to get Swiss cheese or to look at farm provisions. He grumbled incessantly about my mother, who always seemed to be going somewhere. However, 30 years later, they are never home on the farm. If they are, they are inside, watching TV, napping, or in their gardens. My father hated TV and didn't want us to waste our time watching it. There, he and Mom were in agreement. Today, he grumbles if anyone messes with his remotes. When he is home, the remote can always be found, either in his hand or on his chest, while he sleeps in his recliner.
As our parents get older, my siblings and I have worried, a lot, about their health. My father can't walk much, and the history of strokes on Mom's side of the family is horrific. She walks around the farm using a broom handle, while Dad has a cane and also uses his famous electric fence posts. There's a nice collection of them on their front porch step, ready for action.
This winter, during the icy weather, he fell on the sidewalk, and was stuck there, like an upside down bug, for a while. He still insists on walking down the steep basement stairs to fix the wood burner, even though his movement in the house is hampered by the slippers he wears and the removal of his uncomfortable leg brace. We're not even sure how an EMT squad could get a gurney down those steps, which seemed to be built nearly 50 years ago for my parents as an afterthought, not for practicality.
Like the children of other elderly parents, we worry. A lot. We worry about the future of the farms my father owns and the high cost to operate them. My mom says, and only half-joking, they seldom have to pay much tax on the farm, because they never make any money. Most of their pensions are dumped into the farm to keep it afloat. We worry about when or if they'll need long-term care. We worry about what will happen when the first one of them is severely ill or passes away.
My mother and I had a funny and bittersweet conversation about that very topic, on Father's Day, of all times. Describing a friend whose parents are facing long-term care issues, my mother snapped, "I'm ready to go. I know where I'm going and I can't wait to get there." Mom's faith is such a testament, she could make an atheist weep for Jesus to return and claim His kingdom.
"I don't need to be hanging around. I'm ready to go. Now your father," she said, using "your father" with the same tone of semi-disgust and love, all at once. "If I die, your father will get swept up by some floozy, who will take every cent he's got. He's so gullible. You've got to watch him. I mean it. He'll lose every penny he ever earned."
I laughed and looked at her and said, "Dad is the cheapest human being on the planet, Mom. He wouldn't part with a dime."
"You think?" she snickered. "He's so helpless, some gold digger would come along and get it all, and you kids wouldn't have a chance. Mark my words!"
I changed the conversation, mainly because my mother used the words "floozy" and "gold digger." And she seemed to be semi-agitated. This is what she thinks about as she and Dad get older.
These are things that come with a 50th anniversary. My father is more worried about how many non-church people are coming to this event and who's paying for the food they'll eat, and most importantly, will they hold up the line at the food table? My mother is worried some floozy or gold digger may come and spike the punch. My sister is hoping no out-of-town guests want to stay with us. My brother has no idea any of this is going on.
So we'll gather at the church where each of us was baptized and confirmed to be good Hauensteins and Presbyterians, where my brother and his wife said their vows, and in all likelihood, the funerals of my parents will be held. We'll gather and celebrate 50 years of their life together, and we'll do it in the best low-key and people-friendly ways we possibly can, to accommodate both the bride and groom.