PITTSBURGH (TNS) — Marriage rates are on a decline — in Pennsylvania, in the United States and in the world. Over the last two decades, according to publicly released government data, marriage rates have decreased from 8.2 per 1,000 population to 6 per 1,000. (For an even greater contrast, consider the marriage rate in 1950 — 11.1.)
Add to that the statistic that 40% of new marriages include at least one partner who is remarrying, and it seems that marriage is as unpopular as it has ever been. The average length of a marriage in the United States is just under 20 years — and while 41% make it past the 25th year, only 12% make it to their 40th.
Back in 1990, I attended my grandparent’s 40th anniversary party just outside Mexico City. There were women weeping tears of joy and incredibly lengthy toasts made before we could eat the enchiladas. I was only 6 years old, but I remember everyone being happy for my grandparents, over a hundred people coming together to celebrate the longevity of their love, including their many children and grandchildren.
My grandfather had married in his mid-40s, so in 1990 he was just about 84. We didn’t know it at the time, but he only had about five years left. I’m eternally grateful they did not wait to celebrate their 50th.
As the youngest grandchild, I remember being trotted out for many of my grandparents’ friends. I was hugged tightly by dozens of strangers, told how big I’d grown, or how lucky I was to have my grandparents, millions of times. Somewhere on my psyche’s face, there are 34-year-old lipstick stains from the countless old women who kissed my cheek in the exact same spot.
I remember being told repeatedly how precious 40 years really were. I also remember shrugging it off. By the time I’d entered the picture, my grandparents had been together a small eternity. What was another few years?
A few years can be too much, it turns out. These days, 28% of marriages end before reaching double digits. And while divorce rates have declined from their peak in the 1980s, for every two couples getting married today, there’s another getting divorced.
Fear of divorce is one of the reasons people don’t get married. Divorce rates skyrocketed from 1970 to 1990, leaving those of us in their 30s and 40s with the emotional scars of their parents’ costly battles. It makes perfect sense that people get married less often and later in life. Divorce is terrifying, and while my parents never went through that, so many of the families I knew growing up did.
The marriage rate in Pennsylvania is 5.4 per 1,000 population. In Pittsburgh, our city and county are dying — more people pass away than are born on any given day, and declining marriage rates have everything to do with it. Cheer up, though. According to Pittsburgh City Paper, a recent study called Pittsburgh one of the best places to recover from a divorce.
Getting to see any couple make it to 40 years seems impressive, and almost like a relic of a bygone era. Marrying later in life increases the chances of a marriage ending for other reasons too, illness and sudden death robbing some couple of years they would have enjoyed otherwise.
My grandmother outlived my grandfather by 20 years, and I know she missed him every single day. On what would have been her 50th anniversary, there was no party, no celebration except for condolences from those of us who remembered to call.
Marriage is beautiful, even as it is challenging and occasionally impossible. And while yes, it’s not for everyone, I know that my journey through life is only better for having my husband in it. We’ve only been married for eight years, but I cannot imagine my life without him.
My kids are lucky. Both my parents and my in-laws have reached the 40th milestone — the 12% club. Last weekend, my husband raised a glass to his parents at their anniversary party, and I couldn’t help but remember my 6-year-old self, unaware of how important and precious 40 years really are.
Marriage might not be popular today. But I hope that somewhere in my kids’ memories, they’ll picture themselves dancing on the elevated stage at their grandparents’ temple, celebrating the union that made them possible. All this just before words were exchanged and women began weeping.
I know — I was one of them.
(Adriana E. Ramírez, author of “Dead Boys,” is a columnist and InReview editor for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.)
