My parents not long ago celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary. My siblings and I took them out for dinner and a few drinks.

All told, it was a party of 11, including the three little ones, who, against my best attempts, did not imbibe anything but soda pop and chocolate milk. Thankfully, they stayed sober enough to drive us home that night.

I’m married myself, for just over two years now, but you should know that if you’re a devoted reader.

We had our ceremony at Lakenenland. I was told they don’t typically allow weddings there, but Tom Lakenen, the artist behind the sculpture park, made an exception for us since he knew my uncle. The Lakenens were kind and accommodating hosts, and it was a beautiful blue-skied sunny day. Family and friends, and the late September temperatures could not have been more pleasant.

It was similar weather for my parents’ anniversary back in late August. They were married at a church in ’79, which doesn’t seem to happen all that often anymore, at least not for the couples I’ve known. Out of the dozen or so weddings I’ve been to in the past few years, I can only recall two that took place in a church. It might just be the crowd I run with, the bunch of hooligans I consider friends, or it could represent a shift away from traditional social and cultural norms. I can’t really say, I’m neither a preacher nor sociologist, and my experience as a part-time assistant wedding planner is too limited to reach a definitive conclusion.

People are social animals, and it helps to have someone you can count on: a spouse, a partner, friend. I’m lucky to have all of those in one person: my wife, Sarah.

We’ve been through a lot in just the relatively short time we’ve been together. Deaths, births, weddings and engagements. She’s aged gracefully, yet still in her prime, and I’ve gotten fatter and lost more hair from the top of my head to be gained in other less-desirable places — I won’t get into detail.

My in-laws, too, celebrated their 40th anniversary recently. They live downstate and I wasn’t able to mark the occasion with them, but they’re coming to visit this weekend to see the fall colors — unless they separate between now and then, but that seems unlikely.

In 38 more years, I hope we’re as successful at raising a family as my parents and in-laws. With all those kids and grandkids, only a few run-ins with the police and we’re all still alive with all our limbs and appendages intact. So far, that’s not a bad accomplishment, I’d say.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating for marriage, or telling you it’s the “right” thing to do. For many people, it’s precisely the “wrong” thing to do. So, much like they taught you in those anti-drug programs at school, just say no.

Marriage, like any relationship, is hard work and not everyone has that “can do” attitude like me. It’s much more than simply a piece of paper with signatures and a stamp of approval from the state. It’s a relationship, and a struggle you’ve committed to endure for the remaining days you have on Earth. After that, death may sound like a worthy reward — we’ll see how long these next few decades feel.

Marriage is a choice, not a prescription for happiness. And it’s not up to other people to tell you whether it’s right or wrong for you.

I also can’t buy into the whole “marriage is only between a man and woman” paradigm. There are religions out there, some widely accepted in the U.S., that involve one man and multiple women. I’ll even be so bold to say there are also marriages between two men, two women, two transgender people, two bisexual people, maybe a woman and a transgender person or an intersex person and a man. And there are even reports of humans marrying animals and objects. I can’t speak to the legality of all those, but for many of the people involved, I’m sure there’s a serious commitment, as marriage should be. I mean, there has to be for someone to agree to spend the rest of their life with a pineapple or something.

The point is, no two marriages are alike, and they can’t fall under the same definition. Moreover, the old ideas of “man” and “woman” are rigid boxes that most people don’t fit neatly into these days. There’s a spectrum, the experts say, and maybe the same thought should be applied to the concept of marriage.

If someone wants to marry a golden retriever, I say go for it. Spend the rest of your life with a hairy animal that doesn’t speak unless commanded to do so, gobbles down its meals with little respect for manners, lays around sleeping all day and only gets excited for “playtime.” Actually, now that I think about it, that sounds a lot like what my wife married.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Ryan Jarvi is city editor at The Mining Journal. He lives in Marquette with his wife, Sarah, and their dog Tino. Contact him at rjarvi@miningjournal.net.