Thursday, July 1, 2010

I Do, I Do, I Do (Ch. 11)


The story of four daughters, three couples,
two parents and one very big wedding


By Thomas Kunkel


CHAPTER 11: THE VIEW FROM THE OTHER SIDE 

Click here for previous chapters:   Ch.10   Ch.9   Ch.8  Ch.7   Ch.6   Ch. 5   Ch. 4   Ch. 3   Ch. 2   Ch. 1
 

July, 2010

 I got home from work the other day and noticed a delivery had been left outside the front door. The name on the box was Zappos. Even I, hardly the most Web-savvy consumer around, recognized the name of this Internet peda-phenomenon.
I checked the box for heft (disappointingly light) and gave it a little shake. Then I looked for the addressee, expecting to find Deb’s name. Instead: Helen Kunkel. Hmmm. Zappos, Helen…..
Can you say wedding shoes?
The next evening Deb called. She was back in Maryland at the time, slaving to clear out our old home of more than a decade of family detritus before we closed on its sale. She had me on speakerphone when Helen suddenly interrupted.
“Dad, did a Zappos package come for me?”
I barely let her get the words out.
“Oh my gosh, Helen, they’re beautiful!”
“DAA-AD! You didn’t open the box, did you?”
“Well, of course I opened the box, Helen, how the heck was I supposed to know what Zappos is?”
“You didn’t, did you?”
“Helen, they’re going to look so great with your dress!”
“Daaaaad!!! Mom!!!”
Deb calmly intervened. “He didn’t open the box, Helen.”
“Dad—did you?”
Deb again: “Helen, remember, he doesn’t even know what your dress looks like.”
Pause. “Dad!!”
No, Helen, I didn’t open it. Tempted, I admit, but far more fun to stay in the dark and be able to tease you.
Deb succeeded in emptying out the Maryland house, primarily via a rolling, four-day yard sale and thus proving again that there is nothing so useless or beat up that people won’t buy if they think they’re getting a deal. You want proof? We’d just had the oak floors there refinished, and I asked Deb to please protect them from the rummagers picking through our stuff by putting down some of the old scruffy rugs we’d long since retired to the garage.
Two days into the yard sale I asked Deb about the floors. She said she had indeed been putting out the rugs to protect them—but people kept buying them.
Once Deb was done she headed back to Wisconsin, along with Helen and a sedan-full of Helen’s worldly goods.
As I said in my last entry, Helen is spending the summer with us to help finish up the wedding planning. In the meantime, though, she found out where she and Mike will be spending the first chapter of their married lives—in San Diego. That had been Mike’s first choice for a posting, not only for its marvelous year-round climate but because his family lives in southern California. As it’s in high demand by Navy officers, including eager young helicopter pilots, a San Diego assignment had felt like a bit of a longshot to Helen and Mike. Needless to say, they were ecstatic at the news.

“When I selected helicopters, I knew there was really only one community I wanted to get into—HSC, which stands for helicopter sea combat,” Mike explained in an email. “Our mission in HSC is search and rescue, vertical replenishment of ships, and combat logistics (i.e., putting Navy SEALs on boats and taking them off when they are done). 
“Now that I got it, I’ll be heading down to San Diego to start my (HSC) training. It’s almost going to be like flight school again, except now they know I can fly. But I will be learning how to fly my new aircraft, the MH-60S Knighthawk, for the fleet squadron.”
With his new commission, Mike is now a lieutenant junior grade. He’ll be in this next phase of training for another six to eight months before getting his permanent station in a fleet squadron—and his first deployment. He could be attached to carriers, destroyers, cruisers or supply ships. He’s looking forward to seeing the wider world, he said, be it Japan or Indonesia or the Middle East. “But I also understand we have a job to do and that’s to support the troops on the ground—that’s all our job is. With that, I am super excited and can’t wait to get back to the west coast.”
We’re delighted for both of them, being just a few hours’ drive from the Lindsey family. That will be especially important to all of us when Mike is on one of his months-long assignments at sea. But this duty is precisely what Mike and Helen signed on for, and they’re excited. Besides that, they’re going to be living in a place just this side of paradise. As June drew to a close they flew out for some apartment-shopping and picked a lovely place with ample room for a guest bed.
Now where did I put that suitcase?
                                               
                                                                        *

            If you’ve been following this journal, by now you’ve read more than 35,000 words on what I think about the 3Wedding. But many of you have asked me, sensibly enough, what the parents of the grooms think about it—so I decided to ask them. Here’s what they had to say:
First up—Julie Lindsey, writing for herself and her husband, Will:
“It was May, 2005. I had flown out to Annapolis to watch the Naval Academy Class of 2008 climb the Herndon Monument, which signified that they were no longer plebes. I met up with Michael and he briefed me on the events of the day. Then he said, in a humble way but with obvious excitement, that he was going to take a girl named Helen to dinner and a prom after-party that night—he hoped I didn’t mind traveling 3,000 miles to visit him, only to be left in a hotel room all alone. Seeing the excitement on his face, how could I say anything but, ‘Of course I don’t mind, sweetheart.’
 “The next day I drove Michael to the home of his sponsor family, the Perrets. I intended to just drop him off so he could get dressed. But Colleen Perret said, ‘Julie, you need to come with us to the picture-taking, because Helen’s mom wants to meet you and Michael and will not let her daughter go out with Michael unless she approves of him.’ I felt a little nervous, but I knew that Michael would win Debbie over. (As for myself, I was very quiet—which is very rare for me, just ask anyone who knows me!)
“Well, Debbie must have given her thumbs-up, and we watched as Helen and Michael drove off for their first date. I didn’t see Michael till 10 the next morning. I’d wanted to spend the rest of the day with him, but he’d had no sleep. So once we were back at the hotel, out he went. Not exactly the weekend I’d planned, but I was excited to be part of the beginning of Helen and Michael’s relationship.
“Every summer our family meets in Lake Tahoe for a weeklong camping trip. I was surprised when Michael called and asked if Helen could join us. Once again Debbie and I talked, and I assured her that they would sleep in the tent trailer with Will and me, and the week would be ‘G-rated.’ Michael was so excited and couldn’t wait to share this family time with Helen. Since then Helen has joined our family in Tahoe in 2006, 2007 and 2009. 
“July 2006 would be their first dating anniversary, and Michael made big plans! He consulted with me many times—what about this, what do you think about that, everything designed to sweep a girl off her feet. He presented her with a certificate that confirmed a star was named after her, and that afternoon they went on a parasailing ride, and the evening closed with dinner at a lake-view restaurant. It was clear Michael was head-over-heels in love with this young lady, and Michael was not alone. Our family loves her so much, too.
“Tahoe 2007 was probably the one year Helen was not happy. It wasn’t so much that a bear literally walked six feet beside her, but the fact that Michael’s aunt attempted to lure the bear back by putting a cake out in the middle of the camp. 
“Tahoe 2009 was the year we will remember for a long time. We all gathered for the wedding of Michael’s cousin as well as our annual camping trip. The morning of the wedding, Michael took Helen for a hot-air balloon ride, where he asked her to marry him. We all knew the day would come, because Michael alone is an awesome young man, but when you see him with Helen he is truly complete. 
            “During the five years Michael and Helen have been dating, we have had the pleasure of spending time with Katie, Claire and Grace. When we learned that Katie and Claire had also been proposed to, Will and I would have been honored to be invited to their weddings. We were thrilled when we heard the girls were planning a triple wedding. Probably our only concern was that each of the couples would be able to feel their personal touches and the day would be special to each of them.
 “Michael’s sister, Jenny, has thought of Helen like a sister from the day they met, and she was honored that Helen asked her to be one of her bridesmaids. She tried on her dress when we were visiting her in Texas and she looked absolutely stunning. 
“The frosting on the cake for Will and me was when we heard Helen and Michael would be living in San Diego (about a three-hour drive for us) after they are married. I joked with Michael that I was shopping for a tent trailer and would come to visit every weekend. I don’t think he thought that was such a great idea, but when I proposed this to Helen she was so sweet: ‘Oh yes, Julie, we would love to have you come and stay with us.’
 “I would like to reiterate how much we love Helen and the Kunkel family, and we look forward to many family gatherings, as distance will allow. Michael still glows when Helen walks into the room, and as a mom I know I will be putting him in loving arms.”

                                                                        *

This is from Chuck Stewart, writing for himself and wife Marcia, about their son Nick:
 “When we first heard that there was to be a triple wedding I have to admit I wasn’t overly excited about the prospect. As you might imagine, I wondered about diluting the specialness of the occasion. I didn’t want the spectacle of a Triple Wedding to detract from the solemnity of the occasion. I suppose the title of your blog—‘I Do, I Do, I Do’—expressed my initial concern: that the ceremony had the potential of being an ‘I do, me too, and ditto,’ type of event. That fear involved the mammalian old brain, I’m afraid.
“But after the particulars began trickling in, the never-tiresome story of best friends wanting to be together for life, and thinking of your intended as ‘coming home’ and pairs of loved ones always ‘having your back,’ I realized (with a higher order of reasoning) that something extraordinary was brewing. Getting out of the way of myself, I considered the unique family and sisterly love that must be present to share this singular life event together. We have to admire and respect the job you and Deb have done as parents that your daughters, being the unique and special individuals they are, chose to commemorate this most august occasion together as sisters and new brides. 
“We were also struck with the inescapable symbolism of where all three of the couples most wanted to profess their love and their desire to be together forever. In each instance they chose a place of majesty and mystery, a kind promise to move into the unknown together, their adventure beginning together on the edge of the natural world, signifying beauty, mystery, and purity. Then again, maybe we’ve just seen too many old movies—but still, it wasn’t the ‘ring in the champagne’ gambit.
“We would like to take more credit than we probably deserve for the young man that Nick has become. Only natural, right? We didn’t give him a lot of advice when he was young (might be some differing opinions on this). With respect to doing schoolwork, we didn’t require A’s, only that he did his best. He’s taken this to heart, it seems, and when he decides to do something he gives it everything he’s got.
“When the conversations drifted into the hows and whys of our long marriage, I told him that I thought the key to happiness is to choose a person you think is smarter than you, and that the successful approach to a long relationship is to make sure from the start that it’s a partnership. I know this struck a chord with him because his sister and he used to say (complain) that ‘Mom and you are always on the same page, it’s like talking to the same person.’ None of this ‘Dad said it was OK’ if I do such and such. I am sure you know of what I speak.
“We are gratified that Nick has ‘partnered’ with Katie, whom we know as passionate, smart and beautiful. We had to laugh a little when you mentioned in one of your chapters that the Stewarts had adopted Katie. You don’t know how true that is. We took to her immediately, seeing her intelligence, ambition, and love for our son, and to be sure she has already become part of the family. She passed the ‘going on vacation with the Stewarts’ acid test with flying colors (remind to me tell you about the ‘Donner Party’ vacation to Williamsburg some years back).
            “We are a small but devoted family. There is not a plethora of aunts or uncles or cousins within shouting distance, or paternal grandparents. Just a single high-quality Nana, a doting aunt, an extremely close sister—Katie—and her fabulous husband, Mike. Nick marrying into a large family is very comforting to us. And I ask you, is there any better beginning than a triple wedding to start things off? Imagine the possibilities.”

                                                                        *

And finally, this is from Maria Kaiser, about her son Sam.
“Just prior to typing my thoughts for the wedding journal, I did another Google search under ‘Kunkel Triple Wedding St Norbert.’ It’s exciting how much coverage this event has received to date—plus it’s fun to see your kid’s picture and name ‘out there.’ 
“My son Sam Kaiser will marry his best friend Claire Kunkel. They’ve already been through some good times and some tough times—taking care of each other, remaining true, respectful, loving and supportive of one another’s goals. I am going to De Pere this month for a short visit with Sam and the Kunkel family. It will be fun to see where all of this will take place and to possibly catch Debbie in ‘Big Deb Mode.’ The woman is amazing and seems to have planning down to an art.
“I was re-reading the story (with picture) that the Milwaukee paper carried about the wedding. One of the comments from a reader was this: ‘One out of every two marriages ends in divorce. Which couple in the picture will it be?’ He or she is obviously not the well-wisher type.
“Well, here’s some good news concerning marriage statistics: my parents, Don and Betty Becker—Sam’s grandparents—have been married 50 years. My brother, two sisters and I recently hosted a 50th wedding anniversary party for them. We had around 130 family and close friends. By the way, Tom (Sr.) and Mary Lou Kunkel were there—Claire’s grandparents—themselves married 56 years this month. Tom grew up across the street from my dad (a small-world thing). Also present were Dan and Sharon Kaiser, Sam’s other grandparents—married 49 years. 
“I asked my mom and dad if they would list the ‘secrets’ to a happy, successful marriage. Here’s what they had to say:
Mom’s list:
1.      Share the same basic principles regarding moral behavior and religious faith
2.      Patience
3.      Equality
4.      Temperance
5.      Sense of humor
6.      Self-sacrifice
7.      Sensitivity
8.      Respect the other’s opinion
9.      Duty-bound
10.  Agree on use of money
11.  Reasonably active social life
12.  Forgiveness
13.  Tolerance

Dad’s list:
1.      We have found out that marriage is a 100 percent sharing of responsibilities instead of the so-called 50-50 percent
2.      Respect each other’s right to some privacy in their lives—it’s nice to have quiet time each day
3.      Share each other’s opinions on the proper values you wish to instill in your children and arrive at an agreement
4.      Do not put off having children for too long or you might fall into the trap of “not being able to afford a family”
5.      Do not live beyond the lifestyle that you can afford (“act your wage”)
6.      Start being generous with your time and money at the start of marriage—budget so that you will have something left over to help a person in need
7.      Deny yourself reasonably—learn the meaning of the word “no”
8.      Make plans to be with each other alone at least once a month (minimum)—every two weeks is better
9.      Participate in a religious service weekly
10.  Remember your birthdays and anniversaries and try to celebrate
11.  Each partner should develop a hobby of some sort to do by themselves
12.  When you have a spat of some kind, you should make up and smooth things over before retiring for the night—both will sleep better
13.  Admit when you are wrong—good for the soul
14.  Compliment each other daily on each other’s accomplishments
15.  Participate in church and civic activities, but with moderation; do not take too much time away that should be spent with each other or family 
16.  If possible, try to live off of one income; this would require sacrifice and self-denial of both parents, but it’s ideal for children

“I will be there on October 9, 2010—wishing my son Sam and Claire well…..hoping and praying that all three couples have a happy, long life together.”
                                                           
                                                                        *

That abundance of excellent advice, offered by people who have been there, is a good place to end this installment—except to say that these observations are all the evidence one needs as to why Deb and I feel so fortunate about the three families our daughters are marrying into.

NEXT: Summer showers.
Thomas Kunkel is president of St. Norbert College in De Pere, Wisconsin

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

I Do, I Do, I Do (Ch. 10)


The story of four daughters, three couples,
two parents and one very big wedding


By Thomas Kunkel

CHAPTER 10: COMMENCING
Click here for previous chapters:   Ch.9   Ch.8   Ch.7   Ch.6   Ch. 5   Ch. 4   Ch. 3   Ch. 2   Ch. 1 

June, 2010

May is the season of flowers, mothers, revolutions and—especially around here this year—graduations.
For our crew the commencing, well, commenced at George Washington University, where Nick graduated from the law school a few Saturdays ago. Deb and I weren’t able to be there, as we would have liked—but since the ceremony turned out to be four hours long, perhaps it was just as well. Katie said I would have died. She knows from hard experience that at any confined event, even with my own kids (or my own future in-laws) involved, I start checking my watch about 75 minutes in.
Nonetheless everyone said it was a lovely day, and more to the point we’re all tremendously proud of Nick, who graduated with honors despite taking on the kind of extracurricular burdens (e.g., contributing law journal articles, tackling outside research assignments) that top students tend to do.
Making the day even more memorable for him, Nick’s grandmother wrote a letter reminding him that more than six decades earlier his late grandfather also graduated from GW, and saying how proud he would have been to see Nick crossing the stage. Then she presented Nick with his grandfather’s GW class ring. Not a dry eye in the joint, Katie said.
Deb and I couldn’t attend because that same weekend we were hosting St. Norbert’s commencement activities back in De Pere.
Our graduation speaker was acclaimed journalist, author and political observer Gwen Ifill, host of Washington Week in Review and one of the anchors of The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer. Gwen and I are friends from my journalism deanship at the University of Maryland, where she was kind enough to serve on our Board of Visitors. She’s a warm and generous person, and because she likes any good reason to escape Washington she does her fair share of commencement speeches.
And because she’s such a good sport, she complained not a whit about the packed schedule we lined up for her.
Not long after she arrived in Green Bay on a late Saturday afternoon, I picked her up at the campus’ Kress Inn so that she could join us for a casual dinner and conversation at our home with about a dozen St. Norbert students. She held them rapt with the story of how she had moved into journalism after her own graduation from Simmons College in Boston, and progressed through a series of increasingly high-profile newspaper beats into broadcast work. She inquired about the career plans of each student at the table, alternately questioning and advising. She brought the same relaxed engagement to their discussion as she does to Washington Week or the last vice presidential debate. Which is to say she is thoroughly charming.
Then we headed for a reception at the home of our Trustee Ed Thompson, who has a beautiful place on the Fox River big enough to accommodate half of Green Bay—and that’s just about how many people were there, it seemed. Gwen held court in the living room for over an hour as guest after guest, fan after fan came up for an introduction, a quick conversation and a photo.
The party’s other two guests of honor were Ed’s friends Bart and Cherry Starr. Bart is the Hall of Fame quarterback who led the Lombardi-era Packers to five NFL championships, including the first two Super Bowls (and the reason Green Bay came to be known as Titletown). Bart and Cherry, married 56 years, now live in Alabama, but for decades they’ve been heavily involved in various charitable causes in Wisconsin, including helping found the remarkable Rawhide Ranch for wayward boys. They come back to the state often, and St. Norbert College was conferring honorary doctorates on them for their many contributions to the public welfare.
In fact, Bart and Cherry are big fans of Gwen, who in turn knew all about the championship Packers. (I had wondered whether she would and was appropriately chastised for my having doubted it; Gwen knows everything, it turns out.) So they all hit it off like old friends. There were pictures all around, and Gwen would take away a signed Packers mini-helmet as a memento of her Green Bay odyssey.
After a rather cool and damp week, commencement day dawned sunny and mild. The campus looked especially beautiful, as it usually does in mid-May given the season and the hard work of our dedicated grounds crew. Green never came in so many shades, and the sky was that crisp blue of spring, before summer’s humidity arrives to soften it.
Over Sunday brunch I was quite spoiled, with Gwen and Deb to my right and the Starrs to my left. The Starrs talked about their tenure in Green Bay, and how after several desultory years early in Bart’s career their lives changed forever when Coach Lombardi hit town. There was more than a little irony in what I was hearing, I realized. When I came to St. Norbert to interview as a presidential candidate, it was just ahead of the 2008 Super Bowl, and in an open forum with the faculty and staff I’d quoted Bart’s recollection of his introduction to Lombardi, back in 1959. The coach, freshly arrived from his native New York, had called together 15 or so Packer veterans—veterans of losing, mostly—and pointedly told them how he was going to break that habit. His goal for them, Lombardi said, was to chase perfection…knowing they wouldn’t achieve it, but hoping in the pursuit they would reach excellence. Now here was Bart Starr, recounting that same story, as passionately as if it had just happened to him yesterday. It was terribly moving.
But not as moving as when Cherry later remembered the last time they saw Lombardi. This was in 1970, two years after he’d left Green Bay for the Washington Redskins. The phone in the Starrs’ East De Pere home rang one afternoon, Cherry said, and she was surprised to find it was Coach Lombardi calling. He asked how she was, then whether Bart was there. No, but he’ll be back shortly, Cherry said, please come over.
By the time Lombardi arrived Bart had returned, and they showed the coach around their home. Lombardi pronounced it beautiful. Then Cherry said earnestly, “We owe it all to you, Coach. If you hadn’t come to Green Bay, Bart never would have had the success he did, and we would never have been able to live like this. Bart and I talk about it all the time—how we owe it all to you, and we will always be so grateful to you.”
She saw that tears were welling in Lombardi’s eyes. Wordlessly, he gently cradled her neck and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He turned to Bart and hugged him as well. Then he put on his coat and let himself out, still incapable of saying anything.
The next week he died in Washington, of cancer that few knew about until he passed. Cherry said they realized he had come to De Pere to say his goodbyes.
Fueled by such wonderful stories, the day passed in a blur. That afternoon, as we processed into our basketball arena, we were stunned that the place was almost literally packed to the rafters—filled to capacity in the three sides of bleachers, and the floor jammed as well. The combination of a near-record 490 graduates, the glorious day and the draw of Gwen Ifill meant our venerable Schuldes gym was straining to handle an overflow crowd.
Even for commencement, which is always happy, it seemed an unusually joyful day. For one thing, the ceremony moved along at a good clip—no four hours for St. Norbert! For another, the students were all beaming as they crossed the stage to receive their diplomas, especially in about a dozen cases when sons or daughters of St. Norbert faculty or employees joined me onstage to help deliver the diploma (a lovely custom here). It also helped that the student speaker, Patrick Sutherland, was spot-on in his remarks.
And so, too, was the featured speaker, Gwen. As I was seated immediately behind her, I got to watch the graduates spread immediately before her, and they were hanging on every word. Like you want every commencement speaker to be but so few are, she was funny and witty and wise, all at once—and not too long. “No one ever complained about a commencement speech that was too short,” she noted at one point. Thanks again, Gwen.

                                                                        *

Several days later, then, Deb and I flew to Maryland for our last bit of commencement business—to see Helen graduate with an art degree from the University of Maryland.
Shortly before we left Wisconsin she had called giddily to say she’d just turned in the final final exam of her UM career. Was ever a student more ready to be liberated from college? For months now she’d been counting down the days. As I’m typing, in fact, she’s standing in the kitchen doing a kind of dance somewhere between a shimmy and a jig. Why so happy, I ask? “Because I’m graduating today!” she says. So, no graduate school? I ask. “Not unless I have to!” she replies, still shimmying. We’ll see.
Helen did extremely well in college, but she never really enjoyed schoolwork the way some of the other girls have. And with the overlay of the wedding, with Mike being so far away and with her own building anticipation, this past semester was a near-eternity for her. But as it always does, eventually, the big day arrived.
Helen skipped the huge university-wide commencement; at Maryland, which has more than 5,000 graduates a year, individual students are recognized in departmental or school-specific graduation ceremonies. On an unusually hot day for May, we were glad to be in the air-conditioned confines of the campus’ student union for the Art Department commencement.
There were maybe 60 students getting their bachelor’s degrees in art, along with a handful of master’s students. The intimate size was nice, in that the faculty emcee, Professor James Thorpe, could say a few words about each of the graduates without anyone feeling the press of time. When it came time to recognize Helen, Professor Thorpe choked up a bit. He talked a bit about her talent, as well as the fact that she had a Navy helicopter pilot in training sending his love her way; and then, caught up in that, he told the audience that in October Helen was getting married to the young ensign in a triple wedding ceremony with two of her sisters! The audience gasped in astonishment, and Jim allowed as how “this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard of!”
The extra attention made Helen blush and well up a bit as she crossed the stage, and she gave her prof a big hug. But mostly, I think, it was unalloyed joy at being finished with school.
Afterward we visited at the departmental reception and took some family photographs with Helen in her robe—better proof that a child has actually graduated than any diploma!—then said our goodbyes, as we raced off to BWI to catch a flight back to Green Bay.

                                                                        *

With Helen’s commencement over, everyone’s summer plans began to kick in. Nick and Katie actually flew back to Green Bay with Deb and me in order to participate in a pre-wedding couples encounter at the Norbertine Abbey, and shortly they will move into a small apartment in downtown Silver Spring, only a few minutes’ walk from the Metro. The move will cut in half, or more, Katie’s work commute to downtown Washington. Nick is about to take a preparatory course ahead of the Maryland bar exam, which awaits him at the end of July. Then in August he’ll begin a yearlong stint clerking for a justice in Maryland’s Court of Appeals, its highest court.
Claire’s teaching winds up in two weeks, and Sam continues busy with his work at the research lab. Gracie is starting an internship at the Smithsonian Institution with an entomologist, and in the meantime she also landed a nice, 20-hour gig (having to do with insect cataloguing, I believe) at the U.S. Department of Agriculture offices just outside College Park. And way down in Florida, Mike is just weeks away from the end of his training; it won’t be long before all of us find out where he and Helen will be stationed.
But we do know where Helen will be spending the summer—in De Pere, Wisconsin. Her Maryland career done, she is packing up and coming our way very soon.
I don’t know what I will do with that much wedding-planning power united under one roof.
I should also mention that as of a few weeks ago, we sold the house in Burtonsville, Maryland that we bought in 1997. After hanging onto it these past two years, through that s’more-soft real estate market, we felt things had rebounded enough to move forward. After Deb’s earlier trip to oversee the house’s buffing up, we planted the For Sale sign in the front yard…and crossed our fingers. From the start we saw a surprising amount of traffic, and in about three weeks we had a deal. Whew! Maybe we’ll be able to pay for this mega-wedding after all!
But that also means this current short stay is my last one at the house, and I’m a little blue about that. Deb will return in a few weeks to oversee a final clear-out. Various pieces of furniture and keepsakes will go to the girls, and the rest will go toward a yard sale and to Goodwill. And that will be that.
In our long, peripatetic marriage Deb and I have lived in a dozen different homes, most of which we’ve owned. The Burtonsville house, which we moved into in the summer of 1997, was the one we’d occupied longest, more than twice the tenure of any other place. It became as comfortable to us as worn jeans.
I loved its large, three-season porch that overlooked a spacious backyard full of mature trees. That included a tall maple whose trunk, at about ten feet up from the ground, broke into five sturdy branches like a crown—a perfect place for a Dad-built tree house, now a little worse for the wear (as are we all) but still standing watch out there. I loved the quiet neighborhood, not a bad drive into downtown Washington or Baltimore but far enough out to leave the city craziness behind. The warm family room had one wall done entirely in rustic brick, punctuated by a large fireplace and hearth. The main floor had an in-law suite, where Deb’s mother, Norma, lived with us for six years. The master bedroom suite was large and comfortable, and the bath featured a spa-like tub where I spent many happy hours soaking, reading and thinking Big Thoughts. The large basement was mostly finished, a great place for teens to crash. In fact, for most of the time we lived there, usually teens were crashing down there. It was a kind of safe haven for them, which always made Deb and me feel good.
            There are memories of the J school’s staff Christmas parties, and every year getting a huge Christmas tree for the front foyer because its two-story height seemed to want one. There are memories of all those proms and Christmas dances, of eager young men coming through the front door…and some of them destined to be fiancés, as it turned out.
Maybe my favorite spot was the porch swing out back. I used to love swinging while listening to the radio, sometimes far into the evening as the lights of the neighborhood gradually came on. It was a great relaxer and got me through more than a few tense patches at work.
On my final day at the house, I spent a few final hours in that swing. It was a beautiful morning, sunny and warm. And for my amusement there was a little drama playing out right in front of me, free of charge. A couple of blue jays were ferociously defending their hatchlings against a sortie party of crows. Their respective strategies were fascinating to watch. The crows sort of nonchalantly strolled the grounds, as if they had nothing more on their minds than simply enjoying a fine spring day, while the much smaller blue jays frenetically zipped back and forth, tree to tree, buzzing the crows and making sure they didn’t get too comfortable in the neighborhood. After he’d had enough of this hectoring, the lead crow took flight and absconded across the yard to the north; the momma blue jay flew right beside him, like a fighter jet escorting a 747 out of restricted airspace.
I guess it’s pretty universal, the impulse to protect one’s nest. Now here we are, breaking up what was ours for more than a decade. Make no mistake; it’s been a joyful trip, being here to witness Helen taking this monumental step in her life. But sitting on the porch swing, knowing it’s for the last time, it feels pretty melancholy, too.

NEXT: The view from the other side.
Thomas Kunkel is president of St. Norbert College in De Pere, Wisconsin.