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Yes, Age Gaps Can be a Problem... (By Ron)

...but like any other relationship problem this too can be managed. When Gayle and I started out we didn't think too much about the age difference. 15 years when you are in your 20s and 30s don't seem like such a big deal. Of course there were lots of age related decisions we've had to make throughout our relationship and we'll talk about some of those in future blogs. This one is about the fact that aging happens.

Over the years we have managed to live life at much the same speed. As the saying goes, she kept me young. Hiking and walking (particularly in Yellowstone and Europe) are two of our favorite pastimes and they require at least a modicum of conditioning, particularly for me.

It's no secret that I celebrated my 65th birthday in December of last year. As I have aged I seldom thought much about the years that were passing. 65 wasn't a terribly significant number until I had an accident with a ladder on December 29th which resulted in the mother of sprained ankles. It has taken years and lots of abuse for my knees to get into their bad shape. It took only a few seconds for my ankle to become a significant physical liability.

So, here we are in August and my ankle is still an issue. My orthopod says the relatively slow healing process has something to do with the numbers in my birthdate field on his intake sheet. In other words, I don't heal like I did when I was in my twenties. All at once I am at risk for being unable to hike and walk long distances like I love so much.

Gayle is 15 years younger than me. Although she has her own ankle problems she is in better shape than I and we both know it. You already know the story of our recent trip to Yellowstone. We learned a great lesson on that trip. Acceptance. Yep, it's that simple. Now I don't mean I will be accepting my conditioning as is, that's not the point. The point is that our age differences are real and require more attention than I have given them in the past.

No, I don't heal as I did in my twenties and I didn't climb Mount Washburn as quickly as I have in the past. What I have to continue to remind myself is that I still have some control over these issues. With proper care and attention to my physical conditioning I can continue to be as active as I've been for all of my life - maybe just not as quickly.

There's no question that aging is a factor in any age-gap relationship. How you deal with it makes all the difference in the world in how the relationship endures. Keep in mind that it isn't only the younger person who has to learn to accept his or her partner. There is also the possibility that the older partner will have difficulty accepting the age difference. After all, I remember how much I could do when I was 50. I won't be 50 again. I'm not able to do as much at 65. That pisses me off sometimes. That's OK, too. In the final analysis it isn't always the age differences or differences in capabilities that matter. It's how they are accepted, understood and dealt with by both partners.

Building Better Boundaries - Part 1 (by Ron)

This is the first installment of a series about boundaries. In it I hope to introduce you to our concept of boundaries. The first thing I did was to ask the internet to help me define boundaries. It’s not as simple as you might think. In fact, according to the magic of Google the list is almost endless. Here are a very few of the more interesting definitions:

Boundaries:

• According to worldnet.princeton.edu a boundary is “the line or plane indicating the limit or extent of something.” I kind of like that one since it includes limits.
  
  
• In en.wikipedia.org, as used in Topology (a made-up word for Geometry?) a boundary has something to do with “a subset S of a topological space X is the set of points which can be approached…” The remainder just gets worse but it reminded me of how confused many of us are about our boundaries so I included it.
  
  
• And this definition from dakotapathways.org says it like I think it should be said. A boundary “indicates a border or a limit.” A Limit, again! That’s what we all strive to develop in our lives from the first breath we draw until the last – Limits!
  

This and following installments will strive to help you understand your boundaries, or lack thereof, and hopefully, how to improve them. So what are your personal boundaries? Your skin is one. It helps keep out illness, among other things. Your beliefs are boundaries. They protect you in many ways and are constantly being bombarded by outside (and inside) forces. The physical space around you is a boundary. Your physical body is also a boundary.

Over the years as we spoke about boundaries in our workshops, Gayle and I developed two quite different metaphors that reach the same conclusion. Gayle likes to explain boundaries with a sausage link metaphor. When you put a whole sausage into a pan or skillet with other foods the permeable casing (boundary) allows flavors to pass both ways, into and out of the sausage. This blending of tastes enhances the flavors of all the foods involved. No one taste overwhelms the other. When you take the sausage out of the casing and cook with it, it loses its shape and form. It's flavor adds to the dish but you can no longer tell where the sausage begins or end.

I prefer a chain-link or picket fence metaphor. Since we live in Texas it’s much more likely that we would have six or eight foot privacy fences but even these fit into the metaphor. If you have a picket or chain-link fence there are lots of open spaces. If you have dogbabies, as do we, they can easily commune with the neighbors' dogs without fear of coming into physical contact. If your boundaries resemble these fences then you have developed space around you that allows the in and out flow of ideas but no physical or emotional contact that you do not invite. These boundaries allow an exchange of ideas and of your person, should you wish.

So, think of your boundaries as being flexible and strong even though they allow permissible ideas, thoughts, and personal contact. They are not like privacy fences which don’t allow exchanges. Those are walls, not boundaries.

As you read this try to imagine these boundaries around you. Think about who invades them and who respects them. Ask yourself how you fail to tend to your boundaries. The next few blogs will get into some specifics about how we succeed and how we fail to protect our boundaries.

My mother was what kind of cat (by Gayle)

I was reading a question on one of my favorite age gap relationship forums. I felt compelled to write the following post as a response to the question. If you read what I've written you'll figure out what question to which I am responding. So hang in there it will all make sense, I just had to share it here!

I'd like to introduce you guys to my mom and my step-dad. Here is their picture. They had a 15 year age difference. The pic was taken in 1976. My father had died 5 years earlier leaving her a widow at the young age of 54. The age gap between my mom and dad was 8 DAYS. My mother died 5 years ago shortly before her 85th birthday and what would have been her 28th wedding anniversary with my step-father.

Now, 5 years later, my step-father enjoys dating a variety of women closer to his own age. We just celebrated his 76th birthday. I guess my mom was a cougar long before it was cool. Their 15 year age difference worked beautifully and was full and complete is EVERY way. The only problem they had is that sometimes HE had a hard time keeping up with her. I can hear her wonderful and much missed laugh as I type these words. She would have had a ball with the concept of being a "cougar.".

I'm sorry I digressed, what was the question? Something about "what could he possibly see in a woman 18 years older who is his mother's age"....

Gayle's Comments on Generosity of Spirit

I realized that in my original post I told you about Ron’s generosity of spirit - not mine. I did talk some about my own in a weekly pondering on my website. I have my own tapes about not bragging or being conceited. I am an only child and my mother wanted everyone to like me. She was scared out of her wits someone might think I was selfish or conceited. As I got older my mom bragged about me so much that I usually felt like crawling under a table when we were with friends and family.

So I’ll stretch here and walk my talk. I have always been better at promoting other people and products I believe in than I am at promoting myself. I can’t tell you how many doctors, counselors, acupuncturists, and multi-level sales people have me to thank for an abundance of referrals. My spirit was and still is generous with them. I, however, am working on being more generous with myself in this way. Loosely quoting T. Harv Eker author of The Secrets of the Millionaire Mind - an entrepreneur is someone who solves other people’s problem at a profit. He encourages you to see the promotion part of growing your business not only as a way to make more money, but as a way to help more people solve their problems.

For years I was the primary laundress, yard boy, cook, and pool boy at our house (Ron would pitch in from time to time.) I’m now getting some help with these chores. Some of the help is coming from Ron (he’s a darn cute pool boy) and some of the tasks are being hired out. This is so I can spend more time writing. I also love to have parties for people. Ron helps with this, but I am definitely the primary party coordinator in our household. We’ve hosted several milestone birthday events and showers for friends and family.

For our 18th wedding anniversary I legally changed my last name to Lambert. This was, in part, to affirm how much I love and his/our family. In my personal life I wanted to carry the name of my spiritual family. Professionally I still carry my father’s name - Luster - this is my offering of love to him. He was my role model for entrepreneurship. I’ve had to rewrite some of his scripts, but his ability to successfully promote himself thereby helping lots of people solve their problems was second to none. I admire him and hope I can continue to integrate his positive traits into my life.

What does all this have to do with age gap relationships? When the inevitable differences arise in energy levels, generational wisdom archives, parenting styles, hobbies, wants, and needs - generosity is universal and will transcend the gap. The challenge is be generous with yourself as well or you’ll end up be trapped in resentment.

Generosity of Spirit (by Gayle)

One of the secrets to a lasting relationship is to find ways to honor and deepen your commitment to each other. I’ve found that practicing a little generosity of spirit can go a long way toward bridging the age gap (or any kind of gap for that matter) within a couple. For starters, I want you to identify the gaps that exist between you and your partner. Not only do Ron and I have a significant age gap, but we also suffer from “time gaps.” Our busy and demanding schedules get in the way of our quality couple time.

Ron has a very generous spirit. It’s not necessarily that he is generous with things (although he is) - it’s more about being generous with himself and taking care of little things. I hate alarm clocks. I find it “alarming” to be rousted about of bed by the sounds of buzzers and bells. Thankfully, my loving husband is willing to facilitate the process of waking me each morning. I am greeted by a lovely cup of coffee, two beagle dogbabies, and my husband’s generous spirit each morning. The dogbabies lick my face, the husband kisses my face (not where dogbabies have licked) and the coffee goes into my face. This process makes it much easier for me to start my day. I sorely miss the ritual when Ron is out of town. What is especially amazing is that the ritual continues even when Ron and I aren’t getting along so well (yes “stuff” happens even when you are deeply committed to each other!)

If I ever question how much he loves me or how committed he is to us, I don’t have to look very far. There are breadcrumbs of his generous spirit everywhere along our trail.

Multi-Tasking Hell (by Gayle)

My mother may have walked three miles to school, carrying her lunch in a bucket, past a band a gypsies fearing kidnap (I know that’s not PC, but in the 1920’s she was really afraid of gypsies), but I swear I’m more stressed than she was. She had to go to a well to get water (or maybe that was Jack and Jill), but I do know the only “...washers” they had at home were their bare hands and I still think I’m more stressed than she was. Sometimes they caught “crawdads” for dinner in the rain-fed creek behind her house. She started school a month late each year so she could help the family pick the final cotton crop of the year, and yet I’m sure I’m more stressed than she was. Her adrenal glands went into high gear as she approached the gypsy camp, mine pump like that when I’m in multi-tasking hell. Thanks to email, voice mail, text messages, cell phones, traffic, the news, travel, and technology (especially when it breaks) it's not hard for any of us to go into adrenaline overdrive. (I have more to say about the effects of stress on my website.)

Poor stress and time management (read as crappy self-care) kill marriages and people. They killed my father at the age of 54. Blood pressure pills, statins, and an aspirin a day might have extended his life. However, my hunch is that medication would have only given dad more days on the planet to take really lousy care of himself. (If you really want to get really stressed - read about General Adaptation Syndrome.)

One of the things my marriage has taught me is that the degree to which I take care of myself has a direct impact on Ron. Some might call it co-dependence. I think it’s reality. When being truly present in my marriage stops being one of my multiple tasks, I put Ron, my marriage, and myself in jeopardy. If you want your relationship to work better, you better know when to stop working.

"Be here now."
~Ram Dass

I Got Happiness Instead (by Gayle)

When Ron and I met we were both smokers. A few years later I quit and within a few months Ron did too. Over time cigarettes found their way back into our lives (okay, we found them) and we became full time smokers (addicts) again. Neither of us had any delusions about smoking. We knew the health consequences and each professed a desire to be smoke free. I smoked my last cigarette in early 1992. This time Ron did not quit. He made attempts, but continued to wrestle with it for another eleven years. He no longer smoked in the house and sometimes even hid it from me. Mostly he just kept me out of it. When he began having blood pressure problems in the mid-nineties, I became adamant that he quit smoking NOW. I knew I was right.

He knew I was right too, but that didn’t make it easier for him to quit. What started out as a heartfelt plea to my husband became nagging. The nagging morphed into bitching and the bitching became unadulterated harassment. I felt vindicated. The surgeon general was on my side, his doctors were on my side, for the most part society was on my side, and his children were on my side.

I was right and I knew it, but being right wasn’t making me happy. What were my choices? I could leave him (physically and/or emotionally) or I could practice some acceptance. I did neither for the majority of the time. I stayed in my “rightness” and judged the hell out of him. One of the most painful memories I have was telling him that I thought he was weak because he continued to smoke. Talk about a self-righteous bitch. He was battling an addiction and I invalidated him over and over again. I have since asked for and been given his forgiveness, but I am still sad when I remember how I acted.

In the year or two before he quit smoking, I finally began to set better boundaries for myself. I was never happy about his smoking, but I agonized less. I searched and found ways to reduce (I didn’t say quit) my need to control him. I found more acceptance for his struggle and knew it was not my battle to fight. I never did it perfectly, but I was happier and so was he.

How did I do it? I practiced what we "preached" in our blogs "Selfishness Alway Gets a Bad Rap" and Come Grow Selfisher With Me. I selfishly decided my happiness was more important than my need to right. I focused on what worked in my life and in our life and I did a lot of praying...

In March of 2003 he made the choice for himself to smoke his last cigarette.

Life holds so much - so much to be so happy about always. Most people ask for happiness on conditions. Happiness can be felt only if you don't set conditions.
~Artur Rubinstein

I Just Wanted the Dishwasher Loaded the Right Way (by Gayle)

So many recurring problems in relationships boil down to our need to be right. It’s a universal problem with or without a significant age gap. I think the age difference just gives us another justification for our position. Statements such as “You don’t have as much experience as I” or “times have changed and you are stuck in the past” come to mind.

I would love to tell you it was my time spent as a counselor that taught me how to work with and resolve these issues, but I can't. Most of what I learned was from the time I spent in counseling (both with and without Ron). I wish I’d learned some of the lessons sooner, but I’m grateful to have learned them at all.

I remember early in the relationship arguing with Ron about cleaning the house. I wanted more help. He began stepping up and making it happen, but I didn't like the way he loaded the dishwasher. I don’t even remember what I thought he was doing wrong. I just remember complaining in a very condescending way and of course, he got angry. I didn’t think he was right (or had a right) to be angry. I thought he just needed to follow my directions. After all, he was a man so I knew more about washing dishes than he did!

I was getting what I wanted, but I wasn't happy because I didn’t get it exactly as I wanted it. Every time I saw how he loaded the dishes it really teed me off. What was his problem? I was asking for something simple. “If you are going to help out and do the dishes, then do them the right way. After all, if you will just let me show you exactly what I want it won’t take you any longer. What’s the big deal?”

Dishes are just dishes. It’s not usually a life or death situation but committed relationships have ended over smaller things. It would be more clear cut in a real matter of life and death - wouldn't it? Ponder that for a bit - there's more on this subject tomorrow.

Come Grow Selfisher With Me - WDIHTC - Part 4 (by Ron)

I learned that sometimes being selfish is a worthy goal. Finally, I was selfish enough to see that I had to stop talking and start listening – especially when we were fighting. If I wanted her to hear me maybe I needed to hear her. I was selfish enough to see she was often right about a point of contention between us and to admit her being right did not diminish me. I was selfish enough to see that it was OK for her to have a life outside of us. I was selfish enough to tell her when I was angry with her and not wait for days or weeks or never. I was selfish enough to listen to her anger without being defensive. I was selfish enough to stop telling myself I knew more than she did. I loved her selfishly enough to do what it took to make our marriage work.

Relationships! They are a pain in the ass sometimes. Good ones are wonderful lots of the time. They are also boring at times. Bad ones can destroy you if you let them. If you want your relationship to grow and be fulfilling, you have to be willing to change. You have to be willing to adjust to your partner’s changes and the changes in the relationship as it matures. You have to be willing to be selfish.

As my mom and dad neared the end of their days they finally began to interact with me as an adult and not just their baby. They each began to talk with me about their life together. I learned from mom that she didn’t always like her role. She felt it never ended and she never got a rest. She felt she was taken for granted by all of us and often ignored by dad. I learned from my dad that they often argued and that mom was a difficult woman with whom to live. He told me there were times he just wanted to leave, but that wasn’t an option in the “innocent” times. So, they stayed together for more than sixty years. They reached an accommodation and became companions. I don’t think they were ever intimate in the way I have come to know it. I do believe they had what my couples clients must have for success. They loved each other.

Gayle and I are friends, companions, lovers, peers, business partners and are still learning true intimacy. How? By no longer asking why we need to change. We just do. We understand that if one of has an issue with the other – we BOTH have a problem. We learn to change because we are selfish. We know what we want and to keep having what we want we are willing to change. Stagnation isn’t an option for us. By changing how we experience life and each other we are new individuals each day and our relationship is constantly transmuted

Why do you need to change – because you want to be happy. It’s really that simple.

Selfishness always gets a bad rap! WDIHTC - Part 3 (by Ron)

Imagine my shock when realized I was indeed a hypocrite. I really didn’t love her the way she was and often would tell her so when I was angry. With the 15 extra years of wisdom, I knew I was right. Heck – I didn’t need the 15 years for vindication, but it was shame to waste such good justification! On the other hand, I rarely let her know what I needed from her when I wasn’t angry. As a result, it was hard to make my case when all I was doing was pointing my finger and blaming. I still didn’t understand relationships (even with 15 years of extra/excess wisdom!) I still didn’t understand give and take. I still didn’t understand that it was OK to be angry but not OK to be blaming. Our age difference wasn’t the cause of my unhappiness – I was.

It’s not really important to know the result of James’ and Judy’s counseling. What’s important is to know how to answer when you ask yourself that question. So, here it is – it goes for Decembers, Mays, and anyone else in a primary relationship. Here’s the answer to “why do I have to change?” It’s simple. You change so that you can have your way! You change so that you can get what you want! Does that sound selfish? Of course it does. How often have you gotten what you want by not being selfish? Selfishness has always gotten a bad rap. The question is - are you willing to be selfish enough to make your marriage work? (more to follow...)

Some Things Are The Same (by Ron)

You meet someone who is considerably older or younger than you. There is a spark between you, interest, curiosity, attraction. For these and other reasons you begin to get to know each other and before you know it your interest has turned into something much deeper and you find yourself in an age-gap relationship.

I remember the early days of the relationship between Gayle and me. Aside from the fact that there were tumultuous days at times, most were surprisingly normal. Of course there were some interesting issues because of our age differences, but for the most part the progression of our growth followed patterns similar to the growth of any new relationship.

When we decided to move in together we had problems getting used to having the other person in our space 24/7. Since we did not merge our finances until much later we had to determine how we were going to share the expenses. How were we going to share the chores around the house? Who cooked? Who cleaned? Who did the grocery shopping? Did we do our own laundry or combine it? Who drove when we went somewhere together, etc.

Does this sound familiar? If you are in an age-gap relationship then you have probably experienced similar situations. If there is no significant age gap in your relationship you have probably experienced similar situations. Isn’t that interesting? Of course there are some unique situations in an age-gap relationship but, surprisingly, the beginnings of all relationships follow patterns similar to those I mentioned above. The relative ages of the partners have little or no bearing on most of them.

Society today likes to fixate on age differences in relationships. “Oh, he or she is too old for her/him. It will never work! She’s after his money! She's his trophy wife!” In some relationships these may be true. In the vast majority of the millions of age-gap relationshps in the U.S., the couples are together for the same reason as most couples; they met and fell in love. Love knows no age difference. It's our thinking that trips us up. When we start blaming the problems on age, we automatically rule out a solution. You can't change your age, but you can change your mind.

Silverlocks and the 3 (well more than that) Hairs (by Gayle)

I recently read that the single most important invention responsible for us looking younger longer is hair color. With all the other advances (Botox, nips, tucks, lifts, potions, lotions, and peels) in “anti-aging”, I was surprised by this statement. Hair color has been around forever. Then I pondered its impact in my own life.

My mother - Goldie Luster (not her nickname) had silver locks by the time I was born 2 months and 3 days after her 40th birthday. It was 1957. Not an era in which women were typically choosing to wait until midlife to give birth to children. In fact, my mother hadn’t waited. She had given birth 16 years earlier to a son who survived for 3 fleeting days. My parents continued to want a child in the years to come, but evidently I wasn’t ready to be here yet. They were preparing to start the adoption process when I came bounding into their lives.

When I was 5, dad commissioned an artist to paint a portrait of my mother and me. At 45, her silver locks shone like a precious metal highly polished. My father adored her hair color. I know he loved me, but I think the painting was really meant to capture the beauty of her hair for all time.

By the time I was 6, the kids at school thought my mother was my grandmother. They didn’t understand the beauty of her silver locks. Neither did I. I was embarrassed by the color of her hair. I begged her to get her hair dyed. My dad did not consent. It was my mother’s head, but in those days dad was THE head of our house. No hair was changing color unless he agreed.

It wasn’t until I was 8 that my wish finally came true. My little 3 year old cousin Jody was able to reach my mom where I had failed. Jody’s favorite book was full of illustrated nursery rhymes. Jody seemed obsessed with The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. She was constantly saying “there was an old woman who lived in a shoe, she had so many children she didn’t know what to do” in our presence. She dragged the book toward my mom. Mom thought Jody was bringing the book to her to read out loud. But when Jody got next to mom she opened the book and pointed to the old woman who lived in the shoe . Obviously the old woman didn’t have a flat iron, styling products, or much time to tend to her silver locks – her hair was standing on end looking frazzled.

Sweet little Jody looked at my mom and pointed to the picture. My mom got it – we didn’t - yet. Thankfully my mother’s sense of humor was much better developed that her sense of vanity. Mom started laughing and asked Jody if she (my mom) looked liked the old woman who lived in the shoe. Jody nodded innocently. That was the day my mother became THE head of her own head. Within weeks Silverlocks was gone never to be seen again.

More than 40 years later, no one had to read a nursery rhyme to prompt me get my hair colored. The first time the gray started persistently peeking at me, I sought help! Now every six weeks you’ll find Ron and faithfully tending to the ritual of highlighting and coloring gray at the salon. We visit our stylist on the same day and share an appointment so to speak. I arrive 30 minutes before him to get highlighting foils and color applied. While I’m “baking”, our stylist put highlighting foils in Ron’s hair. Yes Ron gets highlights. After too much “Sun-In” one summer, he decided to get professional help (remember, I told you we get outside assistance when we need it!) To read more about his hair coloring history click here.

For years in this May-December relationship our age difference was not much of a visual issue. People could tell he was ambiguously older than me, but no one was calling CPS. Only lately has the difference become more noticeable. In recent years we’ve had a couple of encounters where it was assumed that Ron was my father. That’s a story for another blog, but suffice it to say I didn’t like it. I think Ron took it much better than me. His pride didn’t appear wounded. I reeled silently.

Actually, I think it bothered Little Gayle, just like she didn’t want people thinking her mother was her grandmother, she didn’t want people thinking her husband was her father (ick). So I began wondering if I should grow my hair to it’s natural color. My stylist strongly objected. She said it would age me prematurely (wasn’t that the point) and that the color would look awful (no beautiful Silverlocks for me!) Coincidentally, Ron started wondering what he would look like if he let his hair grow out to its natural color (did I mention that Ron’s son also has beautiful Silverlocks.)

So there I am with a major boundary dilemma. It was Ron’s head, but I didn’t want him to change it. I struggled with what to do or not do. Finally I decided to try the enlightened (not highlightened) path and tell him about my feelings and my confusion. I explained from where my anxieties were coming and told him that I knew what he did with his hair was ultimately his decision. In Ron's typically laid back fashion he replied with a nonchalant shrug and said “No problem - I was just wonderin.” I spend (waste) a whole lot more energy worrying that he does!

And that was that. Once we (Little Gayle and I) got heard and understood the anxiety dissipated. Ron and I still get highlightened and I have ALL my gray covered too. Now I get devilish pleasure when I see confusion in someone’s eyes about our age difference. I better enjoy their perplexity while it lasts. Who knows how long it will be before my hair color isn’t enough to throw them off track! Whether or not Silverlocks ever comes to visit the heads of Lambert-Luster household remains to be seen.

It's Not Always About the Gap (by Ron)

My first wife and I married when I was 18. My parents didn't have a great deal of advanced notice. I was home from Navy boot camp when she and I decided to marry during my two week leave. I can recall my mother following me from the front porch to the card yelling that I was not getting married. I was too young!

My ex and I were married almost a quarter century. In that period of time my mother and the rest of my family took her into the family without reservation. Needless to say our divorce did not sit well with them.

When we separated and I began the divorce proceedings I called my parents to tell them. Although I was no longer a child mom continued to think of me that way. She told me that I needed to make my marriage work and "forget this divorce foolishness."

Later, when I told her I was divorced and planned to marry Gayle she said, "she's only after your big check." She didn't even mention the age difference.

Personal boundaries never existed in my family of origin. Mom and dad felt we kids should always toe their line. If we didn't, we heard about it a lot, primarily from mom. When one of us put our foot down and did what we wanted, mom often complained to all of the other siblings. Everyone always knew what and whom mom was angry about. I knew I was destined to hear a lot from her about my new marriage, but I also knew I was going to keep my boundaries with my family secure.

Mom wasn't worried that I was 15 years older than Gayle. She wasn't interested in the size of Gayle's check. She simply didn't want to deal with the first divorce in our family. She wanted things to continue the way she wanted them to be. She wasn't a bad person, she was just scared and confused about the future.

Finally, when she knew she had lost, she brought out the big guns. "Ronnie", she said, "you can never bring that woman into my home." That took me by surprise. I had not expected my family to immediately welcome Gayle with open arms. However, I certainly hadn't expected her to be barred from my home. This was the beginning of major changes in my relationship with my mother. My response to the woman who had borne me and whom I knew loved me dearly was simple and direct. "Mom, she's my wife and if she's not welcome in your home then neither am I. I suppose we have seen each other for the last time in this life."

She didn't believe me, of course, and continued to ask when I was coming home to see them. I continued to emphasize that I could not come home alone. This continued through the Christmas holiday season. On Christmas day I made a call to mom and dad, as I always did. As usual since my divorce our conversations were uncomfortable. Dad spoke for only a few minutes, as was his usual pattern. Mom and I talked a little longer but I was finally able to begin bringing the conversation to a close. As I told mom goodbye and gave her my love I heard her say something that was totally unexpected. She said, "let me talk to Gayle."

On Becoming Old, Bitchy, and Itchy (by Gayle)

I'm weary of being told that 50 is the new 30 or 40 or 49 or whatever. I wonder if it isn't our newest form of denial. And I'm certain it can be more pressure to be more (or less) than we already are.

I've been married to Ron for 21 years. On our wedding day, he was about to turn 45 and I had recently celebrated my 30th birthday. Those numbers meant nothing me. We were (and are) so compatible that age just wasn't a consideration. When he turned 50, I teased him about the AARP literature flooding our mailbox. He took it well and teased back. He warned me my day was coming albeit 15 years down the road. Even our "60-45" year didn't seem very monumental. It was notable because Ron was going into a new decade (something he was doing for only the 6th time in his life). I thought the occasion was worthy of a surprise party. We celebrated with friends and family at a casino in Louisiana.

But when our "49-64" year hit, I got all itchy (and bitchy) inside. I was prepared for the AARP mailings, but I wasn't prepared for the Medicare sign up mailings that were coming to "get" Ron. All of a sudden, I wasn't just dealing with my shriveling ovaries squeezing out the last of their eggs and the night sweats that were waking me up far before sunrise. My aging was no longer only about me. I was experiencing it against the backdrop of his aging and he was 15 years ahead of me. The boundaries were blurry.

The (thankfully mild) stroke Ron had in 2003 happened inside his brain, but it changed our lives. The knees that need replacing are under his skin, but the way they impact us is getting under mine. I want him to be 50 with me and I don't want to be 65 with him (except when he is 80). The fact of the matter is different than the heart of the matter. What does matter is our love - a love I believe existed before this life and will go with us into the next. So age doesn't get to matter now.

In any relationship, a large part of our happiness relates to focus (you know the glass half full or empty thing.) You don't generally start a May-December romance focusing on age. But, when things get rough, it easy to place the focus there. In reality, what is happening to us could be happening to anyone. It has nothing to do with May or December or age or gaps. It has to do with life. It has to do with what Ron talks about in his post "Life is a Death Sentence."

So, the next time I'm shredding mail from AARP and Medicare I'll be finding a new focus. I'm going to shred it with a vengeance, channel my anger that this life comes with an expiration date into the grinding sound of the blades, and give thanks I get one more day to live and love...

Pooling Around (by Gayle)

Spring doesn't last long here in our part of Texas. It already feels like summer, but I'm frustrated because our pool isn't ready for swimming. I've been practicing pool chemisty for 9 years now and I still can't quite get it right. Today Ron and I made one of our numerous summer treks to the pool store. I wish we had gone sooner. Today would have been a great day to get in the water.

One more time, we show up with a bottle of pool water in hand begging for HELP! A pool connoisseur is going to have to show us how to fix this mess. Again I learn something new about pool water chemistry. I continue to be amazed at how much there is discover about this subject and wonder if that's what they were teaching the day I skipped chemistry class in my senior year.

We return home with list of detailed instructions. We have pool homework! Add a little of this, wait a few hours, put in a dash of that, wait a bit more, and top it off with a skosh of something else. Sleep on it and the pool should be good to go in the morning.

During 21 years of swimming in the same pool with Ron - so to speak, we've made treks all over the country (including the Barnes and Noble right down the street) to get expert advice for our marriage. In some instances, more desperately than in others. Keeping the waters of our marriage swimable is an ongoing process and a delicate balance. Some days I need a little extra togetherness. On others, I "vant to be left alone". Ron isn't a mind a reader and I don't come with one of those nifty chemical test kits to help him figure out exactly how much of what I need and when.

One of the things we know for absolutely positively sure about each other is that we don't know anything for absolutely positively sure about each other (an exaggeration - our genders have remained the same throughout the years give or take a little estrogen and testosterone). When our water gets murky, we try to figure it on our own. If it doesn't clear up after awhile, we get help. We've learned that getting help is NOT a sign of failure, it's a part of our committment to staying "in love". We don't wait to ask for assistance nearly as long as we used to. We want the waters swimable as much as possible.

We also discovered that sometimes we have to sleep on it and we'll be good to go in the morning!