Read by Michael Flamel

After 50 years of marriage, my wife and I have spent a good share of our time planting and gardening. This Spring was no exception. One fine Saturday afternoon in April, we embarked on our familiar ritual: planting several new shrubs on the shady side of our house.

We each have our roles down pat. My wife is the gardener and architect, while I am the laborer and clean-up specialist. We’ve rehearsed these roles many times over the years, working together smoothly and happily. She chooses the precise spot, and I dig the hole to the right depth, shoveling the excavated dirt onto a tarp for clean disposal. Once the hole is ready, she adds peat moss and water to create the perfect consistency. I then lift the shrub into the hole and position it just right. She waters the roots while I fill in the gaps with soil and tamp it down snugly. After a bit of cleaning up and raking, we step back to admire our new addition.

This routine is the root of a happy marriage: mutual affection, close cooperation, and teamwork in life’s everyday tasks.

As I shoveled and raked, I was reminded of a wise remark from a loyal spouse on choosing a marriage partner. But before I share her advice, let’s shift from gardening to rowing.

Rowing a double scull is a perfect metaphor for marriage. A double scull is a sleek racing shell built for two rowers, each handling two oars. The rower in the bow seat steers, while the rower in the stroke seat sets the pace and provides much of the power. The stroke must synchronize perfectly with the bow, maintaining absolute timing with every stroke. There’s no room for showboating or egos; success depends on the two rowers pulling together in perfect harmony.

The rigors of rowing prepare partners for the race of life, cultivating virtues like hard work, reliability, faithfulness, and patience. In marriage, as in rowing, mutual reliance, dedication, sympathy, coordination, strength, and stamina are essential. Who sets the pace, and who steers the course? It’s up to each couple to decide, but both roles are equally vital to success.

Now, back to my friend’s advice. Given that marriage demands the same virtues as rowing, her advice was simple: Marry an oarsman (or oarswoman). Her audience of crew alumni that evening smiled and laughed, recognizing the wisdom in her words.

As my wife and I planted our shrubs, cleaned up, and admired our work, I reflected on that sage advice. Together, we’ve cultivated our garden and rowed a good course as a married couple and as a crew. Best of all, our garden grows, and our race is not yet done. We are still rowing toward the finish line together, as one.

So, consider this metaphor as you choose your spouse (and reflect on yourself) as you would a crewmate for a lifelong journey. And may you enjoy the race. ❖

About the Author: Ed Witman, a philosophy professor emeritus, is a veteran oarsman and husband of a veteran gardener. He enjoys reflecting on life’s lessons through the lens of his favorite pastimes: rowing and gardening.