If you’ve been married for a long time, it gets harder and harder to find the right anniversary gift. This year, as our 30th anniversary approached, Mrs. G. and I found our gifts by accident.

We gave each other a new washer and dryer from the Sears scratch-and-dent warehouse.

Even for a milestone anniversary like this, it seemed appropriate. And it made us smile. Can an old couple get more romantic than that? I think not.

A washing machine isn’t flashy like diamond earrings, and a dryer doesn’t say “I love you” the way a neighbor island getaway does. But when it comes to relationships, you want reliability.

You should be able to count on your spouse just like you count on the heavy-duty or wrinkle-control settings. Your spouse can take the frustration from your day the way the fluff cycle takes the scratch out of your shorts.

Sure, that’s goofy. But marriages can’t be serious all the time. Relationships are just too demanding for that.

The other day Mrs. G. and I were talking about marriages and anniversaries while drinking wine and playing gin, and I went straight for the wedding reception memory. I tend to do things like that.

“Do you remember how awesome our party was?” I said.

“You know, the Good Time Charley reception doesn’t define a marriage,” Mrs. G. said. “There’s more to it. There are all those unpredictable challenges you have to deal with along the way.”

I couldn’t argue with that as I remembered the reception in her parents’ backyard: The neighbor boys dancing on their roof, my father-in-law throwing his best friend in the pool, the cops shutting us down (twice), the drunken wedding guest who spent the night on the living room couch.

Nope, I hadn’t predicted any of that.

“Life isn’t a party,” Mrs. G. said.

I knew that, too. Peter Pan had grown up. But I still frowned.

Mrs. G. knew what to expect when we got married. I did not. In fact, one of our first arguments as newlyweds had to do with expectations and what it took to cement a relationship.

She wanted to know things such as when I was coming home from work, how long would I be at the beach kayaking and did I know that “being home in an hour” does not mean two hours?

She kept using the word “communication,” and all I heard was “micromanaging.”

But I came around. It just took a few discussions.

Communication, it turned out, gave us strength for the struggles that come with marriage. And we had our share.

We held each other up when Mrs. G.’s parents got cancer, first her father, then her mother. We held each other close when each of them died.

We held each other up when doctors doubted that we would have children. We held each other closer when the unexpected happened, twice.

We raised children, bought a house, weathered the loss of jobs and reveled in the rebirth of careers.

Along the way, through grin and grimace, our marriage became as steady as the hum in our laundry room. And somehow, odd as it sounds, new appliances seemed the perfect anniversary gift.

If you ask me, that’s pretty profound for Peter Pan.

Reach Mike Gordon at 529-4803 or email mgordon@staradvertiser.com.