...Lace Up Your Gloves...

A while back, Greg saw an episode of the Today Show that, if my chemo-brain serves me correctly, featured a couple that had been happily married for 50 years. This feat, as we all know, is unfortunately somewhat of an anomaly these days. He told me that Matt Lauer asked them what their secret was. The wife gestured to the husband who nodded and said, "Yeeessss, Dear." (That was drawn out a bit in tribute of Charlie Bell...King of the Rim, and of the "Yes, Dear.") Ever since then, much to my chagrin at times, Greg has adopted the "Yeesss, Dear". Sometimes appropriate, sometimes not. In any case, when I give him a look or make a comment, his response is typically, "50 years! 50 years! 50 happy years!" Usually gets him off the hook when I think he is using the "Yeesss, Dear" in place of "I'm not really listening to you because I'm really distracted or you've just asked me something ridiculous and you should probably hush-a-snoot (meaning: shhhhhh)." Usually.

I came across this article today, and have to say, it's one of the best things I’ve read on the subject matter. I wish we had stumbled upon this back in July when we were facing the unknown and terrified of what it might bring. Then again, it had just as profound an effect on me now, particularly for those times when any of us lets fear slip in through the cracks.

Based on Steven Jay Gould's essay, The Median Isn't the Message, and the various and sundry statistics we’ve found on my general situation, I figure there’s no reason I shouldn’t live to the ripe old age of 117 – give or take a few.

At the very least, I’m looking forward to 50 happy years…