Teamwork

I put in an hour and a half of overtime at work yesterday, August 7.  On my way home I stopped off at Wal-Mart to pick up a couple things before going to the nursing home to visit with Mom.  Then I planned to head home for a couple hours of quiet time with Annie, to talk and unwind a little before going to bed for the night.  It had been a lo-o-ong day.

I was in Wal-Mart when I got the phone call.

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Annie had left work and, like me, was looking forward to a few minutes of relaxation.  She got to a stoplight and took the transmission out of gear until the light changed, then pushed in the clutch, and pushed the shift lever to get the car in first.  The noise sounded like some teenager was trying to learn how to drive a standard transmission and failing dismally.  The car barely moved.

The clutch was out.

“I’m on my way,” I said.

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I made a quick call to Dean, our mechanic.  I made a trip home to trade my car for the pickup, then I made sure I had the tools and equipment I thought I might need, and took off on my 45 minute to one hour drive to Poplar Bluff.

In my mind I quickly went through the options for getting our car back to Dean’s shop.  Of course, there was the obvious choice, asking Dean to pick it up with his wrecker, but it would have been a long drive for him and he already had plenty to do that evening.  I could rent a car dolly and pull it home behind the pickup, but none of the places I could find listed were open.  So much for convenient service.  If we didn’t want to leave the car unguarded and risk theft, vandalism, or having it towed away, we could use the tow strap I had with me in the truck and pull the car home.

After mulling over those options for a bit, I had time to think of other, more pleasant things.

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Annie’s and my official anniversary is August 13.  But, on August 8 of the year we married, my betrothed and I sat quietly together talking about plans and dreams.  We discussed children, life plans, and went over the beliefs and values we held dear.  We both agreed that marriage should be forever, and was well-worth fighting for.  We also agreed, if children came along, they would be our first priority.  We didn’t need to go anyplace the kids couldn’t go with us.  Whenever possible, we would discuss important decisions.  Marriage is about trust.

Over the years we’ve held onto those beliefs. 

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We’ve raised six, strong, healthy, very intelligent sons.  They have gone on to be successful, happy men.  Most of them have married incredible women and given us beautiful grandchildren.  They are raising their kids at least as well as we raised ours.

When I got to where Annie and the car were waiting, we discussed our options and agreed that, given the situation, the tow strap was the most viable one.

I told Annie, “There are very few people I know who I would trust to do what you are about to do.  It is dangerous and stressful and you’ll be following only about ten feet behind the pickup for over an hour.”

Annie is one of those few people I know I can trust to be calm under stress.

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I attached the tow strap and eased into motion.  Annie drove like a professional.  When we neared a stoplight or sign, she eased on the brakes so the strap wouldn’t be yanked tight and possibly snapped.  She also eased on the brakes just a little on downslopes to keep her car from gaining downhill speed and running into the back of the truck.

Of course, I did my part by stopping gradually and not accelerating away from intersections, and maintaining a consistent speed, not varying more than five miles per hour on the highway, despite the hills.  I had already planned out the route to minimize stops and sharp turns.

Because of the consistent speed and easy route, I had more time to think.

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I remembered the good times and the bad.  I remembered the boys being born and all their many achievements since.  I thought of sharing the losses of both our dads and five unborn grandbabies, and of watching our mothers as the years advanced and their health declined.  I remembered the boys’ weddings and welcoming our ten surviving grandbabies into our lives.

I remembered, through it all, she was there for me, and I was there for her.  I thought of the hugs and the smiles and the laughs.  And I thought of all the times we held hands.  When other couples stopped holding hands after the first few months of marriage, we kept on.  As of just yesterday, as we were walking across the parking lot at Wal Mart, her hand reached out to take mine…two old people still much in love.

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We pulled in to the road beside Dean’s garage and he was there waiting on us. I couldn’t help it; I had to brag to Dean about what a great job Annie did while being towed, how well she handled the stress and maintained her calm.

We handed off the car to our friend and headed home.

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Today, August 8, I started out the door to feed my chickens and, for some reason, asked Annie to go with me.

“Sure.”

We walked out and started around the barn.

Annie exclaimed, “Look at the flowers!”

After all these years, I still give Annie flowers.  I buy her flowers for no reason dictated by the calendar…just because I love her.  I buy flowers for her garden…because I know she loves them and, well…I love her.  I pick wildflowers, and taught our boys to pick them, and am teaching our grandbabies to do it, for her…because we love her.

A dozen or so years ago, I noticed some pretty white flowers growing in one of the deep road ditches between home and work.  The next day I took a shovel with me and stopped.  I walked down into the muddy ditch and dug up the delicate flowers, placed them in a bucket, and took them home to Annie.  We planted them in the barnyard.

I did research and found out they are probably not the escapees from someone’s flower garden; they are probably wild spider lilies.  They are not supposed to grow wild this far north, but these did.

Over the years, Annie has told me they are still alive, but somehow I missed seeing them in bloom.  Somehow, they have managed to survive horses, cattle, chickens, ducks, dogs, boys, and grandkids.  That day they were in full bloom, in all their glory.

Annie looked at me and smiled, “You know, we make a pretty good team.”

Yes, Annie, we make a pretty good team.  Happy 36th anniversary.

I love you.

And they said it wouldn’t last.

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