My Anniversary Campaign

Mr. and Mrs. John Allan Constance emerge from St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Suffolk, VA, November 4, 1972

Next month is our 53^rd wedding anniversary. 

And, like many of the last 25 or so years, I’m running for reelection in my marriage. 

I think that my seat is safe, but you can’t be too certain. I’m always campaigning like it's a close race. 

Now don’t get me wrong. The constituency is a reasonable, sweet, caring person. However, after all these years, I’m a bit much. 

I always was, but there is definitely a cumulative effect. 

It’s like there is a big pot on the scales filled with 53 years of comments, jokes, unkind observations, and just plain silliness. You just don’t know when that last quip will tip the balance and fill the floor with a mess that even ServePro can’t clean up. 

We have different levels of tolerance for bullshit as the years go by. And our vision is different. 

Be honest. 

When you see your spouse each morning, is it like when your eyes first met? 

If you can look me in the eye and say yes, YOU my friend, have a future in politics. 

Often these days, when our eyes meet, I spontaneously apologize. I’m not sure for what, but I find that it saves time. 

I am certain that in the last 12 to 24 hours I have done something stupid, or my sweet constituent has dreamt of something REALLY stupid that I did 10 years ago. So, a ready apology is usually in order. 

As the bumper sticker says, “All men are idiots, but my husband is their King.” 

And speaking of bumper stickers, I went online to look up some for my most recent campaign. 

Not much help. 

The one that really made me shake my head simply said, “I Love My Wife.” 

Now that one probably got an “awwwwww” from some of you, but let’s analyze the motivation of actually buying that and placing it on your car. 

Who is the audience for that message? 

Is it like the Irishman who said, “I love my wife so much that last night I nearly told her”? 

In lieu of forming the words and addressing her directly, you go to Amazon, pay $5, wait 4 days for this message printed in China to arrive at your front door, and proudly stick it on the bumper of your car. 

You sentimentalists out there will say that it might be part of a perpetual campaign involving notes, flowers, candy, and messages spelled out in a creepy bowl of Alphabet Soup.  

But to me, it seems like a message to a different audience.  

It is not directed to the constituent, but to everyone else. It might be a weak admission to the world of cruel infidelity. It might be an effort to throw the police off the scent. It might prove that the guy’s mother-in-law did not die of natural causes. That guy will have a parade of police and divorce attorneys in his rearview mirror, following his trail of blood like he’s a wounded buck limping through the snow. 

My campaign is more subtle, more nuanced, more practical. 

For 2025 its theme is “It’s the Little Things Stupid.” 

I am emptying the dishwasher more often. 

I am folding my wife’s underwear when it winds up in a load of my wash. 

I am not giving tips on the golf course (this is possibly the hardest task of the campaign). 

I am responding to my wife’s requests within 48 hours rather than a fortnight. 

I am moving from one chair to another as I read a book or scroll the internet so that when she comes back home, she can’t say, “You are sitting in exactly the same spot you were when I left.” It’s the gift of peace of mind. You’re welcome. 

In politics as in life, the candidate needs to remain true to who he or she is. Big changes, big shifts in policy or image are immediately picked up as insincere. So, the course corrections need to be small. You don’t want to jibe the main when the tack is good.  

So, as the leaves change each year, so do I. Slightly more thoughtful, occasionally empathetic, not always judgmental, and sometimes less verbose.  

The stress could kill me, but it’s just till November 4. 

Happy Anniversary, Hayden. Please give me your vote.