November 9, 2026Monday, November 9, 2026

Just a thought… Life is a fragile blessing wrapped in routine. [Author unknown]

Welcome to a new week, and thank you for coming by. I’ll start with a question: does anyone else celebrate a first date anniversary? This Thursday we’ll do just that: 40 years since Rob and I had a dinner out that accidentally became a first date very quickly. And that was that. Engaged three weeks later (but with some bumps), we were married in 1988 and the rest…well, you know the saying. It’s all in my book, if you’re interested in the details. ‘Cause there is definitely some hot tea….

As we relax here in Nuevo Vallarta for three more weeks, evenings have been spent watching our favourite shows and catching up on the latest seasons of Nobody Wants This and the astoundingly good The Diplomat on Netflix. Coincidentally, both shows keep hammering home the message that MARRIAGE is HARD. It’s not supposed to be easy!

So what are we doing wrong?

For decades we’ve been content in our smugness about just having such an easy partnership. It’s not only because Rob and I don’t fight or raise our voices (I can count on one hand the number of times I have done this with anyone in my life, outside of siblings, of course!) but because we are so very much in tune. If one was to believe the sauce spattered placemats in a Chinese restaurant, we could say, “Oh, a tiger and a horse – perfect pairing.” And it’s true. Or we could look to the stars and say “Libra and Aries? No wonder we get along!”

But you don’t have to be an astrologist, card reader or marriage counsellor to know that neither stars nor ancient signs can predict how a partnership will turn out.

Somehow we knew from that first evening that we were meant to be together. At my condo after dinner there were signs: we made music (him on guitar and me on keyboard) that night playing “In My Life” together, and then there was a song that he and I had both learned years earlier that I loved, but that seemingly no one else had heard of (Nicolette Larson’s “The French Waltz”). That song was sung at our wedding 15 months later, cringingly, by us to each other. Don’t judge – it was the 80s!

We’ve lost count of how often we’ve called ourselves “lucky” (before adding, darkly, “except for that one thing,” which, of course, is the death of our only child). In terms of our relationship, we grieved just as we parented, in lockstep. What could have shattered our marriage – and might have, had Lauren died as a child – was something we have gotten through as one.

Regrets? Only two that are impossible to change: we weren’t able to have more children (Lauren was meant to be our one and only), and Rob is 8-1/2 years my senior. As time goes on I am trying to shelve the dread of living without the other half of my universe. Of course, people survive the loss of a spouse; you may be one of them, nodding as you read this. We’ve come through tragedy in one piece but I don’t think I could do it alone. Rob, on the other hand, I know would be all right: he’s absolute catnip to women who want a guy who is kind, thoughtful, easygoing and can fix anything. And he’s fit, healthy and not bad to look at, either.

(Of course we wear our poppies down here. No one has asked yet what they’re about, but we have our answer in Spanish all ready to go.)

All that said, we know enough to make the most of our time together. To support each other in our differences as well as our similarities. To count blessings instead of grievances, and to celebrate milestones big and small.

And that’s why on Thursday we’ll head out in a cab to somewhere fancy in Puerto Vallarta and have what we hope will be a memorable dinner to mark 40 years since our first date which took place at a tiny restaurant, followed by a Second City show in Toronto. As we dine, we hope to see a glorious sunset, knowing full well that the number of them ahead of us is far less than the ones we’ve enjoyed.

But mostly we’ll be grateful – not smug, just grateful – that our marriage has not been “work.” It’s been two people in a small boat gently floating with the current, taking in the sights along the way, and somehow finding places of peace when the winds pick up and threaten to toss us overboard.

What about this: maybe the hard work came before we met, when we both had the heartbreak of bad relationships that showed us what we should look for in the one that would last.

Lucky? Absolutely. We’d also like to think that there was some kind of divine guidance that brought us together. Years before we met and I was living in another city entirely, I spoke to a psychic who was going to be a guest on our CKLW radio show. I still have the notes from that day that have ROBERT written in block letters, and underlined. Yes, it’s a fairly common name. It’s not like she picked, say, Abdul El-Sayed. So maybe that’s as realistic as a horse and tiger or Aries and Libra, but it certainly feels divine to us.