Chris and I celebrated our wedding anniversary this week. Although the number of years might not be as noteworthy as 40, 50, or 60, this year required a special commitment to one another.
In 2022 and early 2023, I thought I was on a straight trajectory to the management phase of cancer. Then March 2023 hit me hard with the beginning of ulcerative colitis that was diagnosed in late May. July brought a bacterial leg infection, resulting in a large leg wound. This month I learned I have a new chronic condition — lymphedema.
In short, our life has been upended, and yet much has stayed the same within our relationship. How’d we manage that?
Many of the reasons two people stay together are true for us as well: love, duty, stubbornness, shared values, an ability to solve problems creatively, trust. What’s sealed it for us is a strong commitment to humor.
It started early.
Three months into knowing each other in 1985, I received a letter from Germany from Chris’s dad. He wrote, in German, that Christoph was to marry Angelika, a woman his dad and mom had selected. I was to back off. Once I overcame my initial shock and horror, I realized that the paper size was 8.5 x 11 inches instead of the European A4 size of 8.3 x 11.7 inches. Something was off about the letter.
To counter the spoof, I responded with a breakup letter of my own.
We kept our next date to laugh about the joke.
In the late 1980s, we put our heads together to scare my dad and uncle.
Both were avid Wisconsin Badger football fans and hungry for news about their team as they were vacationing in Florida with my mom and aunt.
Context: no internet. Plus, news sources were limited to daily papers, radio, and network TV.
Chris and I authored a short news article reporting that the Badgers, a Division I team, had been demoted to Division II. I printed it out and then ran it through our fax machine to add some grainy authenticity. We mailed it to Florida and waited.
After some time, we learned that our joke had the intended effect, but only for a day or so. My mother was suspicious of the fax paper and so called to confirm and then chuckle. My dad and uncle were overcome with relief.
More recent conversations of ours might go something like this:
Leah: Will you be able to take care of that <insert task>?
Chris: <balking sound>
Leah: C’mon, it’s my dying wish.
Or:
Leah: I really need you so much. I’m so grateful that you’re by my side.
Chris: So far.
At the rehab hospital, Chris surreptitiously affixed a handwritten note to the room number of my door.
Leah Pasch
No alcohol after 6pm.
When he and I finished our collaboration on this blog post, he texted me his concluding remarks:
I’d like you to highlight some more of my jokes, as well as my other strengths. Otherwise, no edits.
The list goes on …
Of course, humor alone is not enough
But it is necessary to sustain our relationship and has helped us love one another for 36 years.
This article was inspired by my brother-in-law, Jacob.
I love this post so much. This reminds me of what I love most about you and Chris. I tried to think of a way to describe how essential humor is that doesn’t sound cliche, and failed. And that’s exactly why it’s great.
So far… that’s comedy gold.