In September 2011, I took a red-eye flight from Portland to Chicago. After three and a half hours of grumpily readjusting my new cheetah-print neck pillow, I gave up on sleep altogether. It was at this moment that 76-year old Alice Bond made her move.
Alice: Do you have the time?
Me: Yes…it’s 4:30.
Alice: Thank you.
Me: No problem.
This sounds inconsequential on paper. But I could tell she wasn’t asking for the time. I had already caught her evaluating me with my peripherals. She was asking for a conversation – I’ve heard that tone before. For some reason, strangers love to talk to me. I’m guessing it’s because I have a round and friendly face, like a 20-somethings Mrs. Claus, a natural magnet for the lonely and misunderstood. Out of experience, I have learned to never engage in conversation with fellow passengers, even if the airplane has already begun her descent. On a trip to Charleston, a middle-seater forced me down memory lane with a photo album in hand. On a flight to New York, I was held captive to the wonders of Christianity, even after making it clear I had already accepted Jesus into my heart. Not to mention, this was just a few months after my older sister was mouth-kissed by a retarded man on a flight. So yes, no matter how adorable the old lady is, I will brush her off for safety sake. Especially at the ass-crack of dawn.
But within a few minutes, she prodded me again.
Alice: Long flight.
Me: Yes. But I think we’re almost there.
This is getting worse. I move for reinforcements. I open my backpack and pull out a book. If I’m awake, I might as well figure out if Katniss picks Gale or Peeta in the Hunger Games. But instead of taking the hint, she continues.
Alice: Did you sleep?
Me: …A little. I just can’t get comfortable.
Alice: You look like one of my granddaughters.
Well, I’m fucked. Even if this is her time-tested bait, I’m defenseless. Plus, I can tell I’m not getting out of it so I might as well enjoy it. I put my book down and turn to see her fully.
She’s scrunched into her airline chair, pressed against the window. Leg jumping slightly, unconsciously fiddling with the line to an insulin pump. There is a strange energy about her. Like she’s really sad, lonely, or scared. Whatever it is, the dam is barely holding back the emotional backwater.
Within the first minute of talking, she reveals she lost her husband in February. They had been married 51 years. As a natural feeler, I am already headed into an emotional tailspin that will end with me crying at 10,000 feet. My throat is closing up. I get a stick of gum to loosen up and offer Alice one as well. We sit and chew together and she tells me all about marriage. She needs to. And I’m sucked in like hair to a Flowbee.
They were married in 1960. They weren’t your ordinary couple, like how I imagine everyone in the 60’s: as Don and Betty Draper or that family from Dennis the Menace (both of which take place in the 50’s, I believe). He was a commercial salmon fishermen in Oregon and she was his co-pilot. According to her, “He’d catch ‘em, I’d gut ‘em.” She shows me a picture of him when he was 19 and in the Navy. They lived in a small town on the Pacific coast that had only one stop light, but despite the Northwest’s oft-overcast skies, sun shone on their relationship. “Of course,” she said, “We had hard times, too. Fights and disagreements, but we always worked to make it better. Marriage is an effort.”
Sadness colors every sentence and the way she stares at her young-lover’s photo is heartbreaking, but she’s so wonderfully candid, I am beyond inspired. The more she talks, the more enraptured I am. I don’t want her to stop, so I ask her, “What are your tips for a good marriage?”
These are the answers of Alice Bond, a woman who knows. I’m not sure what more authority you need:
- Saying “Please” goes a long way
- Never go to bed angry
- Share time with each other
- Tell them you love them
- Do nice things for each other
The universe speaks to us all the time. Sometimes we’d prefer to sleep, or not be bothered, or read the Hunger Games. But when we try to control our surroundings by putting up “safety walls”, we miss out on the chance to learn. Alice knocked on my door three times before I opened it and learned one of the most important things I’ll learn in my life. Take a risk. Don’t be afraid to listen.
