Look at the handsome man in the back row.
My neighbour nudged me and pointed out the man a few positions in from the end of the back of the choir.
It took me a minute and then I realised she was referring to my husband, resplendent as he was in a Hamburg seaman's working shirt, and complemented by a jaunty little red cravat and hat.
Of course, her own husband was by her side wearing civvies and not looking too shabby either.
We both briefly admired our husbands and congratulated ourselves on our good fortune for a brief few minutes.
It would have been easy for me to make a few disparaging remarks about my own. But suddenly I saw him, not as the person whose clothes I wash, but through the eyes of well, the audience member that I was.
And I realised that for an old fellow, he didn't look too bad. When we married 37 years ago, I never actually thought that one day the man I married would turn 70. I never really imagined him retired and kicking back. I certainly never imagined him joining a choir and wearing nautical hats.
Yet, there he was, doing just that.
My neighbour watched the choir for a while longer then whispered to me that it was good to see people getting involved in activities such as this.
And I had to agree with her, yet again.
Here was this man I live with really embracing this retirement. Here he was singing his heart out (albeit in German) and loving every note. He even practices and that's not always easy for me to take, given the fact that I have no idea what he's singing, nor can sing along to a tune that is somewhat too raucous for my taste.
Admittedly, I know his vocal chords are well lubricated when he visits the German Club for his weekly practice and this might have something to do with his enjoyment factor. It reminds me of a friend of his who plays darts and likes to ask anecdotally how else could he get his wife to drop him at a pub.
Well sing out, oh husband of mine. Get involved. Wear strange hats if you have to. My eyesight may be getting worse but blurry or not, you will always look lovely to me.
- Linda Muller
