I lied about the previous blog being the ‘final’ reflection. I didn’t lie intentionally. It is just that memories, or more accurately one more return to these old pictures, keep me rooted in the past. At my age, this is not a bad place to be. After all, memories represent the bulk of my consciousness.

The above pic was from our wedding day. Mary Rider and I had been living together for a year or so before we decided to wander over to the courthouse just before Christmas in 1972. Upon finding a judge who would let us marry in our own fashion, we set a date and did the dirty deed. Our witnesses were two fellow workers we strong armed into performing their required roles.

No one else even knew about this quiet ceremony. We wanted to keep it all low keyed. But marriage is not a ceremony. It is an understanding, more akin to a set of spoken (sometimes unspoken) agreements. Our particular set of understandings would endure (and thrive) for half a century. It proved a remarkably good arrangement.

I soon got to know Mary’s family … her parents and her two older brothers (see above pic). The shock (for me) in adopting a new family was located in their normality. Mary told me that she had never heard her parents argue. I was incredulous. I had never heard my parents be civil to one another unless in public. But it was true. Her folks got along splendidly and seemed to appreciate one another. I had to recalibrate my assessment of relationships, which had been very negative based upon my own childhood.

That childhood had ingrained within me a negative set of expectations about love and marriage, and commitment. Not surprisingly, I had been anti-commitment in the extreme as a young adult, viewing it as something akin to a life sentence. Somehow, Mary had penetrated the barriers I had erected. I’ve thought hard about her technique. Apparently, she didn’t seem to be trying to nail me. In the end, that proved quite effective. That’s the best I can do.

Mary had a meteoric rise through Wisconsin Government to the position of Deputy Director of the Wisconsin Supreme Court. Along the way, she earned her law degree with honors. As you know, I made my way into academia, mostly with smoke and mirrors. She, on the other hand, had real talent as a manager. I know she managed me real well.

We both reveled in each other’s careers, getting to know some amazing and accomplished people along the way. The pic above is one example, taken during a themed party at our house. The men in the back row were my colleagues. The late Bill Prosser (on the left with a cigar) was a senior federal official I got to know well during my work in DC. When the pic was taken, the baseball player in the middle was a junior economist at UW. He eventually became the campus Provost and is now the President of the University of Oregon. The one on the right was a sociologist at UW at the time. He went on to become a Dean at UW before taking the position of Provost at Oklahoma State University, though he is now retired. (He is a Native American who was born in that state, and wanted to return to his roots.)

I also got to know many from Mary’s professional world … lawyers and judges and other legal types. We were blessed to have fascinating positions and to interact with such accomplished and bright people. Blessed indeed. Our lives never lacked for intellectual and social stimulation. And we were involved in many state and national issues. It was never a dull life.

One court story. Mary came home one night rather upset. She noted that the Legislature wanted to kick the Supreme Court out of the Capitol, casting covetous eyes on the space. ‘So what,’ I responded in my usual sympathetic manner. ‘You don’t understand,’ she responded (I seldom did). ‘The justices won’t move unless I find them a place looking over the lake. And worse, I will have to get them something with seven corner offices on the same floor with that lake view, all with equal space. They will be there with their measuring devices making sure that no other justice did better than they. I don’t think that even possible.’ I managed academic prima-donna’s at my research institute, but they were sweethearts compared to the Court Justices. In the end, this silly idea fizzled.

Most of our life together, however, probably was no different than any other marriage. It helped that we had our own interesting careers. We were not dependent on the other for meaning or a sense of accomplishment in our individual lives. I think that can be critical to a long relationship. You need to be comfortable in your own life if you are not to be a burden on the other, or expect too much from them.

Still, we did do a lot together. For example, we traveled a lot, taking in many sites around the world, and we traveled well together for the most part (which is a good test of compatibility if you are considering marriage). In fact, our basic patterns and interests were in sync. We agreed on not having children, on politics, on basic values, and on spending habits. Nothing is more important over the long haul.

Yet, some of the best times were not that far from home. Mary’s dad had built a cabin up on Burntside Lake in Northern Minnesota. We would spend time up their each summer. The pic above was taken up there with Ernie, our pet Cavalier. I knew my place in the household pecking order. If I fell over the boat on one side and Ernie the other, I knew who would be toast if Mary were forced to only save one of us. I’d be toast without question.

As I said, we had a good marriage and partnership. For over four decades, all was well. Then, about a dozen years ago, I noticed changes as did others. In fact, I was in denial of the obvious for some time. Eventually, even I had to accept the reality that Mary had early onset Alzheimers.

For those with loved ones so afflicted, it is known as the ‘long goodbye.’ The person who was such an important part of your life slowly slips away from you. At first, the changes are imperceptible. In the end, the disease ravages the brain rather completely. You only have memories left.

Mary needed professional care for the last four years of her life. Still, there were good moments. The final picture is of Mary at Brookdale Memory Care facility with her niece. I have always loved this shared laugh they had. Such moments became increasingly rare, however.

During the Covid lockdown, we could only see our loved ones virtually (via computer). I recall the staff person holding the screen in front of Mary while saying that her prince charming wanted to say hello. On that first such visit, she kissed the screen … a heart-warming moment. In subsequent such visits, she would look, wrinkle her nose, and walk the other way. The staff person would run after her repeating. “Mary, it is your prince charming.” At that, Mary would break into a run. Funny … yet sad at the same time.

In the end, it proved a blessing that she passed. Still, she gave me a lifetime of good memories. And who else would possibly love a sad sack like me? I was a lucky man. 😌