Joyce Bertschy has lived in Picture Rocks for 25 years and has developed an uncanny ability to find unburied treasure, packrat middens under the hood of her car and cholla balls. She is a news assistant at the Arizona Daily Star.
Maybe it was the flying fickle finger of fate, or perhaps the hand of God or, more than likely, a roll of the dice in a cosmic game of craps.
But the fact remains, Sunday marks the 34th year of marriage for Ed and I.
It’s amazing to me that we are still together. Especially if you consider this: Ed has spent a fairly large chunk of time waiting outside of the ladies room for me.
He accrued a big portion of that wait time when I was pregnant. In malls, restaurants, stadiums and theaters. During each of my pregnancies, we knew the locations of all the public bathrooms within a 50-mile radius of our house.
He’s a patient man. But, it’s not my fault. Scores of architects produced badly designed woman’s bathrooms. I’m not sure why. Perhaps, many architects are unfamiliar with female plumbing? Honestly, the differences between male and female plumbing have been around … well … forever. What’s up with that?
Men everywhere are seen waiting outside of woman’s bathroom all across this nation of ours. Some men wait in groups, for others it’s a solitary endeavor.
Ed has waited in a Broadway theater in Manhattan. He’s waited at the main square at Disneyland and at Disney World. He’s waited outside at Independence Hall in Philadelphia.
He’s waited in several pubs in London. Not a bad bit if you can get it! He waited outside at the Palace of Versailles and inside at the Louvre in Paris.
He’s waited on the Boston Common and overlooking the beach in La Jolla. He’s waited in dumps, dives and holes-in-the-walls.
We’ve had a pretty good life together so far. But the very best thing of all … he loves me … even after all that waiting.
