Been There, Done That

by Al Roker Deborah Roberts

  And then I did my first chat with a local television station, which settled my nerves and helped me to push onward. We filled the time talking to West Coast affiliates and even a station in Australia. Although I was allowed to take a five-minute break every hour, at one point I had such a rhythm going that I was on the air for five hours straight, banking enough rest minutes to take a shower and change my clothes!

  Besides talking with local stations, the Weather Channel and MSNBC colleagues, I also had a lot of support from friends and family throughout my time on the air. Candice Bergen, Aaron Sorkin, Alan Alda, Sam Champion, Willie Geist, Tamron Hall, Diego Klattenhoff and Ryan Eggold from The Blacklist came by to chat about the weather, and my beautiful and understanding wife, Deborah, dropped in with hot chocolate for me.

  By the end of the broadcast, my voice was reduced to a mere croak. I could barely speak. (Deborah and the kids wished that would last for a while.) But even though the thirty-four-hour broadcast took a lot out of me, I did it; I set the world record! I can officially check this one off my bucket list. I assure you, I won’t be doing it again!

  After it was all over, I received a surprise phone call from Vice President Joe Biden, who reminded me that the only mistake I made during my marathon broadcast was leaving my microphone on during a bathroom break.

  Well, I had to admit, he had me there.

  “Yes, sir. It gave new meaning to live stream.” Hey, it was the best ad-lib I had under the circumstances.

  Thankfully, the vice president was kind enough to play along, admitting that he too had had a few problems of his own over the years with microphones he didn’t realize were still on.

  And that’s why I love live television.

  You never know what to expect. Even after thirty-four hours on the air!

  Man, I love my job!

  What made it especially worthwhile was having so many people pull together toward one common goal. We do that every morning on the Today show, of course, but it had been a while since there was anything that had snowballed like the Rokerthon did. (For reasons I can’t explain, it was the hottest trending topic on Twitter!) But best of all, through our Crowdrise campaign, we raised $80,000 for the USO.

  5

  Don’t Confuse the Wedding with the Marriage

  DEBORAH

  Don’t Confuse the Wedding with the Marriage

  I attended a cocktail party for a friend who was joyfully days away from her wedding. I was so happy to be celebrating this blessing with her, as she had been looking for Mr. Right for a long time. A strikingly beautiful woman with smooth dark hair and a quick, bright smile, she had finally discovered that the man of her dreams was actually a childhood acquaintance she had reconnected with. Her fiancé was handsome, charming and successful. I was thrilled my friend had found what she’d been looking for and was delighted to be part of such an intimate evening with friends.

  As I was getting ready to leave the party, she and I were chatting about love, life and marriage, and I said, “Do you mind if I offer you some unsolicited advice?”

  I know, shocking, right?

  It’s always risky to offer a friend unsolicited advice. While you know your heart is in the right place, sometimes people aren’t open or ready to hear your thoughts even if you think they could be helpful. I never want anyone to feel judged or attacked, but I am the kind of friend who feels comfortable sharing life lessons I’ve learned along the way, especially with those I care most about.

  Happily, she accepted my offer and listened closely as I began to talk.

  “Honey, don’t confuse the wedding with the marriage.” I paused because I wanted her to really hear what I was about to share. “I know it sounds kind of strange, but it seems that so many hopeless romantics make that mistake. Take my word on this. They’re not the same.

  “The wedding is going to be a whirlwind of bliss, beauty and magic . . . everything fairy tales and dreams are made of. Marriage isn’t always that way.”

  Okay, I didn’t want to overdo it and scare the poor girl to death just before her long-awaited walk down the aisle. After all, I am a big believer in marriage! “Soon Al and I are going to celebrate twenty amazing years together. It has been fabulous, and I would do it all over again. But it is serious business. It’s easy to go into it believing every day is going to feel like your wedding day—floating on air, embracing each other without a care in the world, not seeing anyone else in the room. And for a while it’s like that. But sooner rather than later reality sets in. Life takes over, and there will be decisions to make. Hard decisions. You will face challenges that will test your strength, your commitment, your patience and perhaps even your love. The fact is, marriage is hard, and you have to make the choice to be there with that person and believe he is worth it and worthy of struggling through whatever crisis you face.” I spoke softly, and I reached over and touched her arm so she would know I was coming from a place of love. I reiterated how wonderful it is, just in case she was about to freak out.

  Then I mentioned a memorable piece of advice from a dear friend who got married just before Al and I did. It sounded corny and poetic at the same time. She said, “Marriage is like a long dance. Sometimes you are slow dancing in each other’s arms and it is lovely and lustful, and sometimes you are pushing away and fast dancing. Sometimes you are doing a romantic tango, and sometimes you are strutting around doing your own thing in a different part of the room. The key thing to remember is that no matter what, you are always in the dance together.”

  I’ve never forgotten those very important words of wisdom.

  My friend gave me a big, long hug and a smile signaling that she appreciated the advice.

  I am far from an expert, but to me, marriage is about all of the challenges and tests you have endured and, yes, the tough times you pull through together. It is also about the decision you make over and over that it is worth continuing to do that. When I look at my husband, I think to myself, “Wow!” We’ve weathered fertility issues, health scares, Al’s weight issues, our career ups and downs, competitiveness, disappointments, highs, lows, family illnesses, deaths and many other stresses and strains together.

  T-O-G-E-T-H-E-R.

  And that’s the most important thing.

  Sometimes when Al is upset with me or he’s done something that has left me disappointed, after the dust has settled I think to myself, “This is what the marriage part is all about.” We’re not living a wedding. We are in a marriage. That means effort, love, patience, forgiveness, compassion and more love.

  At our wedding rehearsal dinner, Al’s mom, Isabel, gave me some unsolicited advice that I still remember clearly and have held dear. Al’s mom was a power to be reckoned with, even at four foot three and about 110 pounds. She had a wicked sense of humor, and her cackling laugh was audible two floors away. But on that particular day, she looked us both dead in the eyes and in a serious tone said, “Communication is the secret to a long marriage. Talk . . . talk . . . talk . . . about everything. Marriage isn’t easy, but if you talk you will avoid a lot of problems.”

  I have to admit, we both brushed it off in the thrill of the festive night. I remember thinking, “Al’s mom is nothing if not dramatic!” But as the years rolled by, I came to realize that her simple words offered powerful advice based on experience and wisdom. John Gray was absolutely right in his famous book Men Are from Mars and Women Are from Venus. Men and women speak entirely different languages! When Al and I have had a frustrating misunderstanding, it’s usually because one of us didn’t fully explain our intentions or feelings. I feel annoyed when he throws out that wonderful half of a salad that I was planning to take for lunch the next day, but of course I didn’t tell him not to. I just assumed he could read my mind. Or when he’s steaming that I’m in an edit room working late even though he made a nice dinner for me and the kids, it’s usually because he didn’t tell me he was making din
ner at a certain time and I neglected to let him know I wouldn’t be home. Or there was the time when my sisters came to town and Al was quiet and a bit grumpy at dinner, far from the happy weatherman we’d seen on TV twelve hours earlier. I felt angry and embarrassed. But if Al had simply told me that he’d had two late-afternoon meetings after the show and was running out of steam, I would’ve understood. I wanted to show my sisters a good time and counted on Al to join me in it. Only after we discussed my expectations and his exhaustion did we understand each other. As Isabel said, talking to each other would help us avoid a lot of our troubles.

  And though we have a healthy, strong marriage, we will both admit that as we close in on two decades of marriage, we are stronger and happier, thanks to couples therapy. Some might ask why I am choosing to share such personal details about our lives, but Al and I are proud that we have both been open to seeking help. A lot of people, especially people of color, don’t want to admit to needing outside help in their relationships. Traditionally, especially in our parents’ generation, the community has relied solely on the church or prayer to solve difficulties; anything more would be seen as airing their dirty laundry, a sign of failure or someone meddling in their lives.

  We aren’t saying it’s the answer for everyone, but for Al and me, it has been our secret sauce to navigating situations we weren’t capable of handling on our own.

  The first time I saw a therapist was actually before Al and I were married. I did a story on the lifelong pain of sibling rivalry, for which I interviewed someone who, like me, came from a family of nine kids. And as in my family, the relationships were complicated now that they were adults. The child who was labeled “the baby” continued to behave that way, and the sibling who was “irresponsible” demanded a lot of energy and left her siblings feeling angry and disappointed. In talking with this woman, I saw myself. I too had strained relationships with some of my brothers and sisters. Some of us had grown apart over the years, and some weren’t doing their share in helping with our parents, who were beginning to show signs of age. The woman I interviewed was having trouble expressing herself and feeling manipulated, and I was struck by how many issues were triggered for me. I soon made an appointment with a highly regarded therapist and felt so much better. I became a stronger woman. I was less hesitant to express my wants and needs and more capable of setting boundaries, which I was always fearful of doing. I began saying no when I felt one of my sisters was asking me to do something I didn’t want to do. And I was feeling less guilty doing so.

  Therapy was useful when Al and I began to get serious in our relationship and later, when we married. Since Al came to the relationship with an ex-wife and a daughter, we were destined for complications. I thought our happiness and love would cure any problems we faced, but that was wishful thinking, and of course, it wasn’t the case. Al felt a tremendous amount of guilt about his daughter Courtney. I completely accepted that she was a part of his life and I struggled to include her in everything, but like any child of divorce, she was hurting and blamed me for her broken family. Of course, I wasn’t the reason her parents divorced, but that didn’t matter to Courtney.

  Once when I traveled to Texas on assignment, I brought her back a cute blouse and a little doll. I expected a happy “thank you” and a hug. But eight-year-old Courtney took the gift bag from me with a blank look. Al, embarrassed, chided her for not saying thank you. Meekly, she thanked me, but I was upset by her reaction—or lack of one. Moments like this began to tug at our relationship. There were times when I wanted Al’s full attention and devotion and he was terribly conflicted—especially when it was time for Courtney to head back to her mom after a weekend with us. Al’s happiness clearly dipped at those moments. It was as if he were being pulled on by two women in his life. We began to have small arguments while trying to figure out how to help Courtney fit in and feel comfortable. It was the classic struggle that so many blended families feel and deal with. We needed help, and fortunately, Al was open to the idea of therapy to talk out our problems.

  Through friends, we were referred to a very experienced therapist who happened to be an African-American man named Henry. Originally from the South, he had a deep appreciation for subtle things that might be influenced by my black Southern heritage. He was a tall, lanky man with a booming voice, and when Henry spoke, which wasn’t often, you can bet we listened. In fact, he said so little, we sometimes wondered if he was asleep during our sessions. Maybe he was, and honestly, who could have blamed him after listening to some of our mundane problems?

  When he offered his opinion, it was filled with facts. It was neither hearsay nor hypothetical, which I always appreciated. He advised us to talk more and to discuss the hurt we each felt. But we also had to be willing to consider the other person’s feelings. I had to put myself in Al’s shoes and appreciate his pain. And he had to be sensitive to moments when I needed him and to learn to let go of the guilt.

  By now you know I’m a say-it-like-it-is kind of gal and therefore I have a tremendous appreciation for anyone else who operates that way. So Henry really won me over. Al trusted him too. But it was one remark that truly sealed the deal for him. After talking about my guilt over this and that and my desire to please everyone, which leaves me feeling exhausted, Henry dryly said, “You know, Deborah, there’s not enough room up there on the cross for you and Jesus.” I don’t know if it was his intent, but Al howled. (I smiled . . . a bit.)

  Sometimes we saw Henry together, and other times we each went alone. With his guidance, we were able to come to our own understanding and acceptance of certain things.

  While uncovering problems and pain is never a walk in the park, Al and I appreciated Henry and truly admired his insights. The more we saw him, the more we realized it was good for us to have a neutral third party to talk to, especially someone both of us respected and whose opinion we came to greatly trust. I think a lot of spouses go through a period where problems or feelings seem to be falling on deaf ears. But if it comes from a third party, suddenly, that same idea is crystal clear.

  Seeing the therapist was an outlet, a place where we felt safe and secure enough to pour out our problems and give them to a person who was equipped to offer sound advice. He also helped us see ourselves and each other’s point of view without judgment.

  Al and I made a commitment to each other a long time ago that no matter what, we would be devoted to our marriage and family. As my mom famously told Al, “Once someone comes into this family, they don’t step out!”

  Two-thirds of all divorcing couples today never sought therapy before calling it quits, which means these couples would rather divorce than face the prospect of therapy. Al and I aren’t willing to so easily throw away everything we have built together. The thought of going to therapy can be scary, daunting, overwhelming and disappointing—but it beats giving up. At least it does for us.

  Like I told my friend, marriage—and even love—takes work. And it certainly takes commitment—a lot of commitment. Al and I are totally committed to each other and to our family. Anytime there are problems, we want to make things better before the only thing we share are our children and maybe the furniture. That would stink!

  Even if you are reluctant to consider therapy, I strongly encourage you to take the time to check in with your partner every now and then, and if you have children, make it a point to spend some time together alone. It’s important to talk about your relationship.

  I can’t deny that I hit the jackpot when it comes to life partners. Many people know that my guy is fun-loving and kind. But not everyone knows how romantic and thoughtful he is. Some years ago, he got me a rare edition of Shakespeare’s sonnets for my birthday, and once when I mentioned offhandedly that I liked a certain necklace, I found it on my pillow a few weeks later—just because. Al is a man who truly listens, which is why I fell in love with him.

  But if your relationship is anything like ours, it’s an eve
r-changing work in progress that will require some fine-tuning along the way, and that’s a good thing. Great romances don’t happen overnight. They’re built over a lifetime of love, adoration and the promise of “happily ever after!”

  AL

  Men Always Want to Have Sex

  My dad taught me many things over the years, especially when it came to relationships and marriage. He said, “Son, marriage is a constant compromise. If you aren’t working at it, you won’t succeed.”

  I know my parents didn’t have a perfect marriage and there were times when they fought, but they were very affectionate and demonstrative and I always knew they loved each other. They were open about their feelings. It was an extension of who they were as a couple—and it impacted me and how I view myself as a husband.

  That being said . . .

  I am going to talk about something that no couple really wants to discuss—together.

  Because guys know you ladies talk about this with your girlfriends.

  Yeah, I said it.

  We know.

  My wife thinks I always want to have sex.

  Is she wrong?

  No!

  Am I unique?

  I don’t think so!

  Every one of her friends’ husbands or boyfriends wants the same thing.

  I am no different from any of those guys.

  And she knows it because she talks about it with her girlfriends all the time at lunches, where they devise very clever ways to get out of having sex with their men. I can picture these lunches in my mind, with Deborah and her perfectly coiffed pals sitting at a restaurant in Midtown Manhattan, sipping wine and laughing about how one of them made up some excuse the night before so they didn’t have to make love to their husband.

  Spoiler alert:

  WE KNOW!