We Got Married

My parents informed me I would not be able to play varsity soccer my senior year of high school. I was crushed. Instead, I was told I needed to get a part-time job to help me save money for college. I had been accepted and planned on attending the University of Delaware in the fall of 1979, and besides there were two siblings after me with higher-education endeavors they needed to save for.

After weeks of filling out countless job applications at the Moorestown and Echelon malls, along with other retail establishments in and around Marlton, two places called me back: Just Ice Cream and Roy Rogers. I had a decision to make. Just Ice Cream was a mom-and-pop ice cream business trying to compete with Carvel, located in the Route 70 shopping center. Roy Rogers was a very popular restaurant chain at the timem with a new location opening up on the busy Marlton Circle.

Within months of turning 17, and without giving it too much thought, I chose Roy's. I certainly did not know it then, but that single seemingly unimportant decision to appease my parents would set in motion a chain of events that would define the rest of my life. The summer of my senior year of high school, after working at Roy's for almost a year, I would meet and eventually fall in love with the daytime hostess. Her name was Marie Mazzochetti.

At the end of summer, I left for college. Three months later, Marie moved to Myrtle Beach, SC, with her best friend, Margie. For the next 6 months, we kept Hallmark and AT&T in business, sending each other greeting cards and weekly letters, as well as calling each other after midnight when the long-distance phone rates were the cheapest. 

In late 1980, Marie moved back to New Jersey, I transferred from the University of Delaware to the Rutgers-Camden campus, and we made plans to get married in the fall of 1982. Needless to say, my parents were not pleased their first-born child at the age of 20 was making these life-altering decisions with no college degree to fall back on. A few months before our Oct. 1982 wedding, my mother-in-law graciously took me in. Looking back now, without that arrangement in place I’m not sure we could have made it.

We were two kids in love. It seemed there was nothing that could stop us. What we lacked in financial resources and worldly experiences, we made up for in trust and an undying belief that together we could make this work. Marie worked as a full-time waitress at the Donut Hutch. I worked a part-time job at Jefferson Ward while taking extra classes to complete my bachelor’s degree in accounting during the fall of 1983. When we had a little extra money at the end of the work week, we splurged for a sit-down dinner at Pinto’s instead of the usual Friday night takeout pizza. Occasionally we ate at the Pufferbelly restaurant, enjoying their all-you-can-eat shrimp menu on Tuesday nights. None of these places are still around.

Back then, we lived week to week. We had no savings. We made sure we had enough gas in our cars, which always seemed to be needing maintenance. We attempted to schedule as many hours of work as we could, occasionally making some extra money working overtime shifts. We lived a simple life. It didn’t seem to matter to us that we did without certain material items. We simply enjoyed being with each other and found joy in whatever activities we participated in together. We didn’t have things, so we didn’t feel the pressure to maintain a certain lifestyle. It wouldn’t always be like that.

Somehow, 30 years quickly passed before our eyes. When I look back at those years now, I can recall distinct moments when Marie sacrificed her time for other things to put my hobbies, passions and dreams above her very own interests and pursuits.

When we had no money, she bought me my first real camera (Minolta Maxxum 5000) as a surprise anniversary gift. When we bought our first home in our mid-20s, she bought me a pair of wireless headphones so I could listen to my favorite CDs while I cut the lawn each weekend. When I decided in my early 30s that I wanted to gather with my high school friends, she decided to host an annual summer crabfest party allowing me that opportunity. When I decided on a whim I wanted to play roller hockey in my late 30s, she made sure I had a big pasta meal waiting for me before my Thursday and Sunday night contests. When I had visions of being the next Cameron Crowe in my early 40s, she created my own website—“Rock Online”—so I could pursue my passion for writing about music. When I started my part-time tax business (20 years ago), she purchased and learned the tax software so I could spend my time attracting new clients. When I wrote my screenplay and started to blog for two online news publications in my mid-40s, she once again fully supported me. When I considered taking surfing lessons, she encouraged me. And now, at the age of 50, she is helping me and my friend Joe start up our photography business.  

This woman has been my friend, partner and lover for more than 30 years now. That period of time now accounts for more than half of my lifetime. As you can imagine, she has seen me at my most incredible best and most incredible worst. When I was/am happy, she shared in my happiness. When I was/am disappointed, she encouraged me not to give up. I cannot imagine my life without her by my side. The journey we’ve taken together these past 30 years would have been empty if I hadn't shared them with Marie.

Recently we had dinner with a close friend. As we sat there enjoying a leisurely two-hour meal, I was able to witness Marie being Marie. So often, married couples are caught up in the moment—rushing and doing, running and scheduling. On this particular night, I watched silently from the sidelines as she conversed with my friend. I saw her. She was funny and playful, smart and wise, caring and considerate as they discussed a wide range of topics over the course of the evening. 

That night inside I was beaming with pride. She’s my girl. I was fortunate that at the end of the night this woman would be coming home with me. In the span of a brief few hours, I was once again reminded how special she is. I was reminded why I fell in love with this woman and why I would risk it all and do it all over again if this was the payoff.

Thirty years ago today, a couple of kids pledged themselves to each other in a small church on a cool, crisp fall Saturday morning in front of friends and family members. Our unknown future together lay ahead. Twenty years ago, our daughter was born, completing our family unit. If only those two things happened to me in these past 50 years, I would stand before you as the luckiest human being on the planet. Thankfully, our unknown future together still lies ahead. Here’s to the next 30 years. I’m not sure what these years will bring us, but together we can get through anything.

“And the thing is, after all these years, I still look back in wonder.”

Kevin Arnold – "The Wonder Years"