Volodymyr Kish.
I recently celebrated my 43rd wedding anniversary with a truly remarkable lady who has endured that many years of putting up with my quirks, habits, wanderlust, risk-taking, strange ideas, bad puns, and often eccentric perspective on life, love, people and society. I know that I have benefited greatly from this relationship and would hope that it has been mutual on her side as well.
I was conveying this to my cousin Hryts in Pidkamin a few days ago via one of our regular SKYPE sessions, which have become, over time, a combination of learning experience, therapy session and ego-bruising encounters with reality. Hryts can be as intellectually pungent and overwhelming as the prize-winning garlic and horseradish he grows in his garden.
“Hrytsiu,” I opined, “I sometimes find it hard to believe that I have been married that long and am rapidly approaching my golden wedding anniversary!”
There was a puzzled grunt from his end, and he responded with “What exactly do you mean by golden wedding anniversary, my young turnip?”
“Well, you know, Hrytsiu, that’s what they call the 50th wedding anniversary” I replied.
“Peh!” he exclaimed derisively, “Golden wedding anniversary indeed! More of your pretentious western cultural nonsense that has nothing to do with real life. I suppose you name other milestone anniversaries after equally irrelevant things like silver, rubies, pearls and diamonds.”
“Well, actually Hrytsiu, “I explained somewhat tentatively, “we, ah, kinda, do. For instance, the first anniversary is known as the Paper Anniversary, the fifth is the Wood Anniversary, the eight is the Bronze, the twentieth is the China, the twenty-fifth is Silver, the fortieth is the Ruby, and the fiftieth is the Golden. Don’t they do something similar in Pidkamin?”
“Of course we do,” he shot back. “you know how we love traditions and ceremony. But our commemoration is more practical, more organic and reflects our real day to day life. So our first wedding anniversary is the Salt Anniversary. The fifth is the Bread Anniversary. The tenth is the Horseradish, the twenty-fifth is the Garlic, and the fiftieth is the ultimate, the Salo Anniversary. We name our anniversaries after the important things in life, not baubles.”
I thought about it for moment, and it started to make real sense to me.
“You know Hrytsiu,” I replied, “I like it. It is more real and true to life. It is a more Ukrainian way of honouring such events. So, is there a name for the forty-third anniversary, like I just had?”
“Why of course,” he exclaimed jovially, “you have just celebrated your Kapusta (Sauerkraut) Anniversary! Congratulations!”
I was somewhat nonplussed for a moment, as it took a while for that to sink in.
“Kapusta?! Hmmm…” I thought. Eventually I became reconciled with the idea, since I do like sauerkraut, and sauerkraut varenyky in particular.
“I am proud of you my boy,” he continued, “Forty three years of marriage. That is quite an accomplishment. And to the same woman to boot! You obviously have learned what a woman is all about.”
“Aaaaah, actually Hrytsiu,” I replied, “Quite to the contrary, after forty three years of trying, the only thing I have learned about women is that it is futile to try and understand them. I have given up trying. Their minds work differently, their emotions are beyond my ability to comprehend, and you can’t argue with them, I have found that the only way to deal with them is to find out what makes them happy and try to keep them that way. Don’t get angry with them, don’t try and change them, just accept and appreciate them for what they are. Do that, and not only will they be happy, but you will be happy too.”
“Well,” Hryts answered with a chuckle, “You’re not such a turnip as I thought. I think you might actually have acquired some wisdom over the years. Keep it up and you might make it to your Smetana (Sour Cream) Anniversary!”
“Smetana??” I thought silently, but decided that I better quit while I was ahead.
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