It's Mischief Night. You know, the traditional night before Halloween, the night made famous in 1939 when Orson Welles went on the radio and managed to convince a lot of people that we were being invaded by Martians. The night before the traditional Trick-or-Treat, that is if expected rain doesn't wash out most of tomorrow's Halloween haunts.
At least it is for most people.
It's not for me.
That's because today - for the past 36-plus years - has been special for another reason.
It is my wife's birthday.
And this one is not just any birthday.
My wife turns 60 today.
We celebrated by spending last weekend in Rehoboth, one of our favorite places in the world. I didn't know when I made the reservations that, in keeping with the Halloween theme, it was also Seat Witch Weekend, a huge festival that saw the town jam-packed, easily the equal of a summer day.
So much for our quiet weekend escape.
I put 60 in the rear-view mirror a few years ago.
It did not go well. I was not fazed a bit by 30, or 40, not even 50.
But 60 struck me as a bit of a different animal.
It just sounded - old! And believe me I look every day of it.
Now take a look at my wife.
She redefines the notion of being 60. She does't seem bothered by it at all. Maybe if I looked like her, I would feel the same way.
How she has done it I don't know. I assure you it has nothing to do with living with me. Why is that? Well, let's just say we've had our moments. I'm not sure people who are not familiar with newspaper life - especially those of us who have spent our lives with ink-stained cuffs - quite understand the role of a newspaper person's wife.
In my wife's words, it is the mistress she has lived with the past three decades and change. The newspaper always came first. I'm afraid in a lot of instances, she is absolutely right.
It has not been a picnic. Look, I'm no picnic without all the special trimmings that come with the newspaper life.
All I know is that she has stayed with me through all of it, all the night shifts, all the working holidays, all the weekends, all the kids' events missed, and today with my constant companion - that hated damn laptop.
Happy 60th, GiGi.
I think I owe you about 60 more.
Comments