50 years deep!

I was driving Uber the other day, heading from Avon down to Foxwoods Casino. Long ride, but it was a Saturday and I had time. The couple I picked up had a story to tell. They were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. Yeah, 50 years. That number hit me. I’m 52. They have been together since I was two years old. That kind of longevity makes you think.
The wife was a retired teacher, sharp as ever. We got to talking—about education, politics, relationships, and respect. She said something that stuck: “Education doesn’t just shape minds—it shapes how we vote, how we see the world, how we treat each other.” And she wasn’t wrong. We both agreed that somewhere along the way, hard work stopped being the norm, and excuses became the language of the day.

We laughed about how different dating was back then. She told me how a boy had to call a girl’s house and ask her parents if he could talk to her. Not text her, not DM her. You had to face the family first. I told her I never even talked to a girl I didn’t like until I got to college. Before then, the hoops were too real—parents, friends, neighbors, everybody had to know who you were. You had to mean something.

Now, People barely respect themselves, let alone each other. And it shows. We talked about how folks don’t value different opinions anymore. If someone thinks differently, they’re wrong—or worse, canceled. There’s no dialogue, just division. And in that kind of world, relationships don’t stand a chance.

But these two—they made it. You could see it. Not just the years in their eyes, but the love. The real kind. The quiet kind that sticks around even after funerals, job losses, arguments, and whatever else life throws at you. They had grown kids, grandkids, probably lost parents and siblings along the way. But they stayed together and made it
I meet a lot of people driving Uber. Some rides are loud, some are silent. But this one sat with me. I’m not gonna lie—I was a little envious. Fifty years. That’s discipline. That’s choosing each other over and over. That’s respect. And maybe that’s what we’re missing now—respect for commitment, respect for effort, respect for different minds.
They left the car smiling, holding hands. Like they still meant it. And I just sat there for a second, thinking—damn. That’s beautiful. That’s rare.
Real talk—I look up to them.