Today is our fortieth wedding anniversary. Our story begins on a Friday night at a packed bar, with a tall man, a business card and a borrowed pen. As I reflect on the events that shaped our relationship, I’m bursting with gratitude for the adventurous, love-filled life we’ve shared.

We met

Friday night, January 1984, at the Umbrella Bar, Sydney. My friend Angie and I were out on the town. Angie liked tall men; he was standing next to a tall man. The four of us spent the night flirting. He gave me his business card and said, “Call me”. I said, “No, you call me”. He borrowed a pen and took my number. I waited, hoping the phone would ring. It did.

Me

A Kiwi girl living in Sydney, already married and divorced twice at 28. Well-travelled, yet with limited insight into the chaotic relationship choices I was making.

Inadvertently, I’d started dragging myself out of the negative relationship cycle by embarking on a learning journey. I completed a six-month course on Communicating and Relating, an intense foray into understanding myself. I was studying Personnel Management two nights a week at TAFE. That education quietly reshaped me — strengthening my confidence and sense of self.

He

A Nowra boy living in Sydney, 25 years old, newly separated and about to graduate with a Bachelor of Business, having studied part-time for six years while working full-time as a Merchant Banker. He planned to travel and be free.

He left – and I waited.

Nine months after we met, he took off to see the world, making memories in Europe and Turkey without me.

I needed to become stable and independent, so I kept working, studying, and waiting.

Our relationship grew through flimsy blue paper aerograms – brief pages of longing and hope.  Sporadic long-distance phone calls fuelled the torturous yearning, but we both needed the slowness that distance provided.

I joined him in the USA. We reunited at the San Francisco airport, but we had a backup plan for unforeseen events. There were no mobile phones in those days, so I promised, “I’ll wait for you on the steps of the Australian High Commission every day at 10 am if you don’t make it to the airport.”

We spent a month secluded in our hired Chevy Camaro, driving from San Francisco to New Orleans.

I returned to Sydney and waited some more. He kept travelling.

He came back

Finally, after 8 months, he came back and moved in with me in Sydney.  He finalised his divorce. I completed my Certificate in Personnel Management.

We left

We planned a life together. Nowra seemed better than Sydney for raising kids, so we moved there and bought our first home.  He worked for his parents, fixing water pumps and milking machines. He completed his electrical apprenticeship.

I took advantage of a magic moment in time where, even as a New Zealander, I could attend university for free and receive Austudy. Thank you, Gough Whitlam, for free education; you absolutely changed my life. I completed my Bachelor of Psychology, a Lifeline Telephone Counselling course and a Childbirth Education qualification.

We got married

On 29^th March 1986, just two years after we met, we married in his parents’ lounge. We melted our old wedding rings to create new ones, forging the future from the past.

We left again

In the small town of Nowra, we had two beautiful children, great family support and made good friends, yet I yearned for something different.

“Let’s live overseas,” I suggested. “Ok”, he replied.

His new job was as an Accountant for an electrical company in Lae, Papua New Guinea. Looking back, I can’t quite fathom why I thought moving from Nowra to Lae — an even smaller, more isolated town — would offer me more. I bought the book, “Where There Are No Doctors”, and packed it along with my 18-month-old and 3-year-old children. Spouses were generally unable to work in PNG, yet I worked for 8 years while living there. Thank you again, Gough, for that free university degree.

He’d packed his saxophone and trumpet when we moved to PNG. I was bemused, as I’d never heard him play, except on the record that he’d made with a dance band when he was 15 years old. One night, at a party, he stood at the top of the stairs, saxophone to his lips, and the sexy sounds of the saxophone flew into my heart. I fell in love with him all over again. I was his greatest fan and the luckiest woman in the room.

He completed a Master of Business.  I completed a Graduate Certificate in Training and Development.

We spent 8 years in Papua New Guinea as a family, four years in Lae and four in Port Moresby. My irrational desire to move led us to outstanding jobs, travel, learning opportunities and lifelong friends.

I Left Without Him

He was offered a great job, just as we’d decided to leave PNG. He asked, “How long could I live without him?” I left with the children to start our new life in Cairns. The kids and I embraced him at the airport every Friday night, and he flew out again on Monday mornings. A communication box kept us connected. The kids and I filled it with anything we needed to talk about when he came home – drawings, bills, invitations and school reports.

I started a small business, became dissatisfied, completed my Honours in Psychology and became a psychologist.

After a frightening event in PNG, he came back to us permanently 2 years later.

 

He joined another band and bought a motorbike. The best gig ever was his band playing at a Harley-Davidson event. I was still his greatest fan.

We left again

When the children finished high school, it was time to leave again. The big city was calling.

We moved to Brisbane as a family, and here he and I have stayed, though we have moved homes three times since arriving. He kept playing music, started cycling, and I wrote a book – Not Forgotten: They called me Number 10 at Neerkol Orphanage.

We kept old friends and made new ones. We had interesting jobs, took 6 months off to travel and enjoyed our lives.

Now we are both retired. We focus on loving our family, which has grown to include a daughter-in-law and two grandsons, connecting with friends, keeping healthy, and being stimulated. He’s still cycling and playing music, and I’m still writing and madly creating coffee pod sculptures – Have you met Tall Black?

What worked for us?

After 40 years, here is what I know worked for us to build a strong, lasting marriage.

• We shared a focus on family, driving positive change, continually learning, ensuring joy was part of our lives, and valuing connection with friends. Work was important because it was interesting and the means to do what mattered to us.
• We each had space to enjoy solo activities, but we also loved sharing time. He is still the person I choose to spend most of my time with. I love his company.
• Our love is anchored by rituals: a kiss every morning, warm greetings when we arrive home, checking in with each other at the end of the day, dinner together, and a shared late-night cuppa. Friday nights are still fun nights. When we had young children and little money, it was fish and chips by the beach; now it’s dinners out, or maybe just a drink in front of the TV. Our annual Christmas Carols, where he plays the piano and leads the singing, and friends and family gather at our home, is a highlight of the year.
• We fit together well. I dream big – “let’s take six months off work and travel the world”. He makes the dreams happen, booking the travel and managing the money.
• We’re on the same team, cheering each other on, celebrating each other’s successes, and supporting each other in the harder times. We build each other up. We are undoubtedly the most important people in each other’s lives.

Thank you for bringing the music to my life, Steven. We share the best of lives. I’ve loved every one of the 14,610 days we’ve been married.

I still love Friday nights at a bar, but I have no interest in tall men, retirees don’t carry business cards, and I have a special pen in my bag, given to me by my children for book signings. He knows my number now.