Next Tuesday, April 5, my wife Melissa and I will celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary. Everyone I have mentioned this to over the past several days has expressed surprise by this, and I can't blame them; I'm surprised she's stayed with me this long, too.

My good fortune in that regard seems all the more amazing when one stops to consider that we had dated for just a month shy of eight full years by the time we finally tied the knot, having gotten together in high school. For most of that time we were what my old friend Dave Mills once called "informally engaged" - meaning everyone knew it was going to happen eventually, it was just up to Melissa and me to finally get the project off high-center.

When Melissa and I finally agreed that the time was right and set a date, everyone was both happy and relieved. Well, almost everyone; Melissa's mom, bless her heart, was neither happy nor relieved. I bear Ruby no ill will for this; I don't know that I would have wanted my daughter to marry a guy like me, either. (One more reason I'm glad to have only sons...)

Whatever faults she might have had (and we all have them, don't we?), Ruby did a fine job of raising her adopted daughter and only wanted what she thought was best for her. It's just that Ruby's idea of what was best for her daughter was NOT some near-sighted transplanted Okie who grew up on the wrong side of Bradley, Illinois; liked comic books, Tarzan and "Star Wars"; and whose goal in life was to become an underpaid journalist, and perhaps write a book somewhere along the way.

Fortunately Melissa's father Alvin supported us wholeheartedly and pointed out - rather vocally, as I recall - that the decision was not Ruby's to make. Ruby relented (what choice did she have?), and eventually even came to accept me as a member of the family. (I think the arrival of grandchildren had more to do with that than anything else, but who's complaining?) We still had our difficulties, Ruby and I, but there were some good times along the way as well. For Christmas one year she gave me a volume of poems by Robert Burns that is still among my most prized possessions.

And I'd like to think that, if she were still with us today, Ruby might even concede that I actually managed to surpass her original dim expectations. After all, I've not only received a handful of awards for my efforts as an underpaid journalist, but have actually written not one but two books (and have contributed to a couple of others). That's a pretty fair degree of success for a fellow who was once told by his rotten old bitty of a third grade teacher that he would never amount to anything.

All kidding aside, much of the credit for any success I have enjoyed in my career rightly has to go to Melissa. She has been my biggest supporter, all the way back to those days in high school when I used to tell her about my dreams of becoming a writer. It was Melissa who, when fate dealt a series of peculiar hands in the years immediately following high school, set me back on the path towards college and earning my degree. It's too long (and in some ways painful) a story to get into now, but suffice it to say that by that time in my life I had all but given up any hope of ever going to college; fortunately Melissa was there to give me the good swift kick in the tuckuss I needed to get over feeling sorry for myself and get on with what needed to be done.

And it was Melissa who smiled and said "If that's what you want to do, let's do it," when I said I wanted to return to Oklahoma and take a job at a small weekly newspaper in my mother's home town of Tishomingo. There was no earthly reason in the world for her to do that, other than love. I wouldn't trade that kind of love and support for all the riches in the universe; some day I hope I can find a way to finally thank her properly.

I've spent a lifetime hearing some people talk about how much work it takes to make a marriage work. I suppose there's some truth to that, judging from the number of couples I've known in my life who have divorced, or those who never married in the first place because they felt it would be easier to just walk away. (No disrespect intended to any of those folks; in most cases I know little to nothing about their individual circumstances, and would never want to sound judgmental.) But to me these past 25 years hasn't seemed all that hard at all. There have been a few rocky times, to be sure, but we've faced them together and always come out stronger.

I LIKE being married. I love the idea of having someone for me to hold up when she needs it, to hold me up when I need it, to laugh and cry with, to watch our kids become adults, to grow old together. What's so hard about that?

Of course it goes without saying that I got the better end of the deal. I married Melissa, after all. On the other hand, she married me, which even I have to admit gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "booby prize." I know my mother was more than ready to be rid of me, and there is that part of me that fears my wife might one day feel the same way.

From time to time I mention this to Melissa. Without fail her response is to smile, call me silly and tell me I have nothing to worry about. Then typically we spend time reminiscing about the years we've spent together.

There have been an awful lot of pleasant memories we have created together over the course of these 25 years. We're both looking forward to creating even more.

(Copyright 2011, by John A. Small)