Thursday
Yesterday Julia and I celebrated our 49th anniversary. Well, we didn’t exactly celebrate it, given that Julia was running my mother to the doctor after another fall and then taking off for a pre-cataract appointment with an ophthalmologist. I, meanwhile, was madly putting together a talk on literary angels and then delivering it. It felt like old times when we both had full-time jobs.
Still, I had time to think of memorable moments in our life—graduating and marrying on the same day (June 8 1973), three births, one son’s death at 21, ups and downs in our respective careers, journeys abroad, grandchildren, many, many foreign students living with us. It doesn’t take much for me to remember movies we saw together, books we read together, and all those other experiences that make up a life together. To be sure, it hasn’t always been harmonious, but by having worked through various tensions and disagreements, we know we have built something that will last..
This James Weldon Johnson poem gets at some of what I feel now. Here’s to #49, Julia.
The Only Beauty That Is Never Old
When buffeted and beaten by life’s storms,
When by the bitter cares of life oppressed,
I want no surer haven than your arms,
I want no sweeter heaven than your breast.When over my life’s way there falls the blight
Of sunless days, and nights of starless skies;
Enough for me, the calm and steadfast light
That softly shines within your loving eyes.The world, for me, and all the world can hold
Is circled by your arms; for me there lies,
Within the lights and shadows of your eyes,
The only beauty that is never old.
