The world then, the world now - The Jewish Standard

As our 50th wedding anniversary approached, my husband, Andy. and I wondered how to mark the occasion.

What about a party? Music would be a requirement, but dancing would be taboo. After 50 years of marriage, I still have no sense of space, and Andy has no sense of rhythm.

Next, we considered having a quiet dinner, just the two of us. We’d dress up, splurge for valet parking at a fancy restaurant, and dine by candlelight. We’d have sparklers on a decadent dessert and the servers would sing “Happy Anniversary!”

Wait a minute — no children and grandchildren to sing to us and shower us with hugs? Where are all the spoons so that we can share one dessert? Forget the candles. We would need the fashlight app on our phones to actually see the menu.

So much for old-fashioned romance.

It was appropriate that our ideas bounced back and forth like a tennis rally because, in fact, we met on a tennis court 55 years ago. We have been playing together ever since. Andy is almost always the champ, but this time our verbal match felt like a tie. We agreed on a plan: a week’s summer rental with all the kids, and a separate trip for the two of us sans family.

The beach house would provide a lot of togetherness, which has its pluses and minuses. The interior is spacious. Outside, there should be enough sand and ocean to share. If not, we can always drown ourselves in frozen custard and salty fries from the boardwalk concessions. In case the minuses outnumber the pluses, I have my escape route planned.

And what about that special trip for the two of us? Surely we could find the perfect destination.

It was complicated. As we searched for just the right location, we realized that we were also making a political statement. Red states were quickly dismissed. Some national parks, although on our bucket list for years, lost their appeal due to federal cutbacks. European cities where terrorism, antisemitism and anti-Zionism make daily headlines were no longer places we wanted to support. Travellng to Israel? As I said, “It’s complicated.”

Fifty years ago, when we planned our honeymoon, we didn’t have these problems. Nor could we ever have imagined them. Only George Orwell, in “1984,” could picture such a dystopian world.

For wide-eyed and naïve newlyweds in 1976, every country had a welcome sign. We had so many options, limited only by budget and time constraints. At that time, walking through airport security was like a romp in the park. Removing your belt and emptying your pockets? That would have been absurd.

Ultimately, we decided on a honeymoon in Bermuda. A neighborhood travel agent arranged everything. We handed her one credit card from our new joint account; she handed us a paper receipt. We purchased travelers cheques at the local bank.

Holding hands on the flight, we actually talked to each other. In Bermuda, we unfolded maps to find our way, never able to refold them in exactly the same way. We took our chances on finding good restaurants without doing any research. We used a real camera and mailed the roll of film to be developed. Then we waited a week for the return envelope. The best photos, secured with tiny, black corners, went into an album that would be stored on our bookcase. For posterity, I kept a journal on hotel stationery.

And 50 years later? We booked a trip to Iceland and Copenhagen. I tried to turn a blind eye to Iceland’s boycott of the Eurovision Song Contest because of Israel’s participation. And Denmark? If I focused on how Denmark saved more than 7,000 Jews during World War II, I could visit with a clear conscience. Compared to the rest of the world, these destinations seemed almost friendly to Jews.

We befriended AI to help us with an itinerary. Without ever leaving our computer or talking to a human being, we arranged the entire vacation, including flight, hotel, and car rental reservations, and payment. We stored all the details in the Tripit app. My Notes app was ready for me to begin writing a new story. We were on our way before we left our home office!

Could our aging bodies climb and hike the way they did 50 years ago? Of course, we knew the answer before we traveled 2,601 miles from Newark to Reykjavik and another 1,336 miles to Copenhagen. But at our age, we were still curious about the world. Our legs had no choice but to cooperate as we explored glaciers and volcanoes, waterfalls and museums. We would reward our tired bodies at sidewalk cafes on long city walks.

As we waited for our friend to take us to EWR in his new self-driving Tesla, I remembered another airport trip immediately following our wedding. My “new” mother-in-law drove the newlyweds to JFK in her Dodge Dart. It was pouring rain. Visibility was zero.

Instead of being anxious, Hannah smiled at us and said, “You know, in the Jewish religion, it’s good luck to get married in the rain.” I had never heard that before. It must be a bubbe meise, I thought. An old wives’ tale.

But Hannah was prescient. For half a century, Andy and I have been blessed with good fortune.

So now, with Tefilat HaDerech (The Traveler’s Prayer) on my lips, and my eye on the forecast hoping for just the right amount of rain, I was optimistic about our second honeymoon and the next 50 years of marriage.

Merrill and Andy Silver live in Montclair; she’s a freelance writer and retired ESL teacher. Her work has appeared in the New York Times, Hadassah magazine, the Forward, the New York Jewish Week, and other publications. Find her at merrillsilver.wordpress.com

Local