Courtesy of Iris Pastor.
Steven and Iris Pastor
My husband, Steven, and I have been married to each other for 49 years.
The operative phrase is “to each other.”
We both had been married before.
We both had gone through a divorce — both a secular and a Jewish one.
And we both had learned that if it’s not right, get out.
When Steven and I first re-met at our 10th high school reunion in July, 1975, I was immediately smitten. I never really had the courage to ask him if the feeling was mutual. It’s probably more accurate to say, “I grew on him”!
Shortly after the Jewish holidays, we started seeing each other regularly. There was ONE thing upon which we agreed as soon as we saw some potential in our relationship: if dating each other became too problematic and wasn’t making either of us happy, we would end it.
So, does that mean that every day over the last almost five decades we have made each other happy every single day? I think not.
Has anyone aggravated me more than he has?
HARDLY.
And I know I have aggravated him more than anyone else ever has done because he tells me so countless times.
What has kept us together — besides shared finances, homes, cars and lifestyles?
Chemistry? FOR SURE.
Similar values, plus similar religious and political beliefs? MOST OF THE TIME.
Kids? HEE HEE! THAT COULD BE A WHOLE OTHER BOOK, MUCH LESS AN ADDITIONAL COLUMN!
A firm belief, as cheesy as it sounds, that we are soul-mates? ABSOLUTELY.
And a core realization that if we couldn’t make it with each other, we couldn’t make it with anyone.
We still have our frustrations, our annoyances, our wanting-to-pull-our-hair-out-of-our-heads impatience with each other.
He’s very, very clean, but also very, very disorganized and messy — piles of papers, clothes and toiletries everywhere.
I can easily function amid dust and crumbs, but am extremely organized. There are no piles I can’t dismantle. My lists have lists.
He is NEVER on time.
I am ALWAYS on time or too early.
Therefore, whenever we leave the house together for a shared event, we always start-off in a fight. He accuses me of being rigid and inflexible. I accuse him of being deliberately passive-aggressive and slow moving.
He likes bland, plain food. Matzah brei with no salt.
For me, the saltier the better.
He is never hungry.
I am hungry all the time.
He tells me I harp on things way too long and in too much detail.
He tells me I have a long memory for hurts and disappointments and a too short memory for joy.
I tell him I get tired of looking for things he has lost or forgotten where he has put them, that he has no sense of direction and won’t look at a map and I still can’t understand that for someone so logical how he can’t remember the difference between texts and emails! Geez.
However, we have:
overcome hurdles, survived profound losses and re-surfaced after waging fierce battles still together.
My husband is:
the wind beneath my sails
my profound sense of security
my most consistent source of support and I think he would say the same about me.
We are each other’s ROOTS:
We started-off being born in the Jewish Hospital on Burnet Avenue six days apart.
We spent second, third, fourth and fifth grade in the same classroom in Bond Hill School.
And we attended the same high school — Woodard on Reading Road.
Long live “The Pastor Pair” and… Long live all the other marriages that flourish and endure among impossible odds too.
And Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
