Grateful for my parents and their 50 years of marriage



This Thanksgiving, I'm giving thanks to God for the gift of my parents and their upcoming 50th wedding anniversary.

Be not alarmed. All things considered, my Boomer parents, Richard and Karen, are in remarkably good health. That my family is not cherishing this holiday season in fear that it may be the last for one or both of them is itself a blessing.

We weren't always so lucky.

Just a few days before Thanksgiving in my senior year of high school, my father nearly died when an aortic aneurysm that had been silently ballooning in his chest suddenly ruptured. Only by the grace of God did he survive. So many others who have his condition, including late actor Alan Thicke, do not.

After that catastrophic event, my entire family underwent a thorough medical assessment, at which point doctors discovered a severe congenital heart defect in my mother, then in her early 40s. Over the next two decades or so, her health slowly deteriorated until she received a heart transplant three years ago. Had she not qualified for a transplant, she might not be here today.

I am not trying to be morbid this holiday season or to fixate unnecessarily on death. But I know that I am likely to outlive my parents, and when they're gone, Thanksgiving and Christmas will never be the same.

The older I get, the more I witness the heartbreak of other people my age losing their parents. In November 2021, my best friend from high school lost her mother to a rare and aggressive form of ALS. Six months later, my friend's father was gone too, less than a year after he and his wife celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary.

Another friend, two years younger than I, is still reeling from the unexpected death of his mother in the summer of 2023. Yet another friend is savoring whatever time remains with his mother, who was recently diagnosed with cancer.

And I would be remiss if I did not remember the death of my beloved Aunt Linda in May 2021 and the loss of my husband's uncle a few weeks ago.

Though memento mori is a good mindset to adopt at any time of the year, I am not trying to be morbid this holiday season or to fixate unnecessarily on death. But I know that I am likely to outlive my parents, and when they're gone, Thanksgiving and Christmas will never be the same.

I know no parents are perfect, but I am extraordinarily fortunate to have the parents I have. My mother, a skilled designer, taught me about the importance of beauty and acting like a lady. My dad instilled in me a love of sports, and his quick wit reminded my siblings and me never to take ourselves too seriously.

But even more important than those lessons, my parents gave me the gift of my Catholic faith and taught me through words and actions the importance of the sacrament of marriage.

To this day, I would be devastated if my parents divorced, and I cannot imagine the pain and trauma endured by children of divorced parents. That every day my parents wake up and choose each other is a blessing worth recalling this Thanksgiving.

This spring, the two of them will celebrate 50 years of marriage.

My in-laws are also still married, as are the parents of my two sisters-in-law and my brother-in-law. These couples are not impervious to marital strife. At various times, some of them have overcome addiction, financial hardship, estrangement from other family members, and, of course, devastating illness. Commitment is a choice.

My brother and his lovely wife, the mother of my darling nieces and nephews, now have 20 years of marriage under their belt too. So it seems that while divorce can be a generational curse, marital commitment can be passed down through the generations as well.

God willing, my husband and I will someday celebrate 50 years together. If we do, we will have God and our parents and their respective examples of marriage and commitment to thank.

I don't know why God has thus far spared my parents, Richard and Karen, and continues to allow them to live full and relatively healthy lives, but I'm grateful that He has. However many Thanksgivings we have left together, I'm especially thankful this year for them and their faithful commitment to one another — in sickness and in health.

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The author “deliberately, falsely portrayed Hannah as unhappy, falsely portrayed her marriage as unequal, falsely portrayed her children as annoying, falsely portrayed her life as unfulfilled, her life as fake because Hannah's life is family. And there is nothing feminists hate more than family,” says Liz.

In the article, Agnew took jab after jab at Daniel Neeleman, Hannah’s husband, painting him as the domineering alpha-male type. Liz cites the following excerpt as an example:

“Our first few years of marriage were really hard, we sacrificed a lot,” she says. “But we did have this vision, this dream and —” Daniel interrupts: “We still do.” What kind of sacrifices, I ask her. “Well, I gave up dance, which was hard. You give up a piece of yourself. And Daniel gave up his career ambitions.”

I look out at the vastness and don’t totally agree. Daniel wanted to live in the great western wilds, so they did; he wanted to farm, so they do; he likes date nights once a week, so they go (they have a babysitter on those evenings); he didn’t want nannies in the house, so there aren’t any. The only space earmarked to be Neeleman’s own — a small barn she wanted to convert into a ballet studio — ended up becoming the kids’ schoolroom.”

The passage captures the tone of the entire article.

“Cultural hegemony” is what Liz sees when she reads Agnew’s insults.

First coined by Marxist Antonio Gramsci, founder of the Italian Communist Party, cultural hegemony refers to how a governing body captures various institutions in order to shape and control the culture, the end goal being that the governing class’s worldview becomes the cultural norm.

“The Marxist left cannot stand if a man and a woman are happily married, if they are fulfilling traditional gender roles — the woman is having babies, the husband is providing and running a business — if they're homeschooling their children, if they are happy,” says Liz.

If you need further proof, look no further than Agnew’s brazen acknowledgement of her irritation at not being able to get Hannah Neeleman alone.

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“What an absolutely nasty article,” says Liz in disgust, adding that the piece proves that “feminism is a pernicious fraud that hates women.”

“When women choose to be feminine — like Hannah Neeleman — choose to be wives, choose to be mothers and actually like it, feminists' heads explode.”

“Nobody will more viciously gut a happily married mother — who's happy with those choices — than a feminist who thinks nobody should be allowed to be fulfilled by doing what God created women to do,” Liz condemns.

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