Anniversaries are like Meatballs
On May 17, 1814, the Norwegian Constitution was signed, giving Norway independence from its 500 year union with Denmark. For the last 18 years I haven’t been able to let this date pass without a cheap aside regarding Norwegian Independence. You see, I am half Norwegian, and May 17 is Beth’s and my wedding anniversary.
I shouted up the stairs wishing her felicitations and she said “Thank you I was just thinking about that.” Then she said “I’m happy, how about you?” To which I responded “Okay” and returned to the keyboard. Shouting between floors is not conducive to complex conversation, but simple meaning is easily transmitted.
As a working-class qua middle-class white American male I share a cultural tradition that identifies marriage as a limiting institution, a condition of bondage. So the irony of the anniversary falling on Independence day is always worth a nod and a rueful chuckle. Much like Hector will always be known as “tamer of horses” (all the good cognomen’s were taken, they say) and Achilles recounted as “swift footed” and Patroclus known as “the great hearted,” I will always be known as “Frank, he of Norwegian extraction who was ironically married on Norwegian Independence Day.” And of course, with a label like that, I’ll never be the stuff of epic poetry. But then I wasn’t born a child of privilege like Achilles, and frankly speaking, I think I’m better off than some Argive hero sulking in a tent outside a walled city peeved because I’m facing a choice of soon dying in battle or blowing the scene and heading home without my favorite slave girl.
Love flowers today in Massachusetts. ‘The exclusive commitment of two individuals to each other nurtures love and mutual support; it brings stability to our society.’ A lot of marriage licenses will be issued today. These folks might not share our anniversary (and for the Norwegians among them I will add that this is probably a good thing), but today’s the day they’re getting the license. I have only the vaguest memories of the paperwork that preceded our wedding, but I have a feeling that the gay and lesbian people in Massachusetts receiving marriage licenses today will remember May 17, 2024 as favorably as they remember their actual wedding days.
Norwegian guys contemplating marriage today might ask themselves, would I go a’faering with this person? Beth and I have faered well… we’re past the days when an open boat on the fjord sounds like an opportunity to be alone together, but regardless of her aversion to cold nights on open water, we have a pretty good match.
We gave each other the gift of a puppy this anniversary; but, the gift has been delayed. Molly was at puppy pre-school with a few of her litter mates and a bunch of strangers and they all came down with something intestinal. Julie at the kennel suggested we wait a week to pick her up. Well, better Julie should be dealing with a seriously poopy puppy than me I guess, but I’m eager to get her home!
Anniversaries are like meatballs. You want to savor each one, and you’ll know when you’ve had enough. Yet if you feel full today, it’s almost certain that a year from now you’ll be ready to enjoy another one. Each anniversary is different from all the others. The anniversary-gift-products industry (AGPI)attempts to regularize the giving of gifts. Eighteen falls awkwardly between 15 (traditional: crystal; modern: watches) and 20 (traditional: china; modern: platinum). The AGPI has earmarked a gift type annually for the first fifteen anniversaries. Then they leap to counting by fives. This gets the working-class qua middle-class white male (around whom an ironic and self deprecating humorous wedding and marriage tradition has been built) off the hook. After fifteen, you really only have to attend to this obligation every five years. And if you act on that you’ll be lucky if your spouse doesn’t start throwing meatballs at you.
I’ve reviewed the list carefully and I’m pleased to note that puppies are nowhere on it. This is a fact I find both freeing and empowering. Whereas the AGPI has set the expectation that on the seventh anniversary, the loving spouses will gift each other with wool (traditional) or desk sets (modern), there is no prescription for happiness assigned to number 18. So this year we can be happy with a puppy anniversary (baked or fricasseed - traditional; kept as a pet - modern). I think we’ll go the modern route!
Happy anniversary sweetie! We had a great party, ringmasters and all!
