Lifestyle
L.A. Affairs: We were just newlyweds when an emergency room visit tested our vows
“I’m his wife,” I said to the on-call doctor, asserting my place in the cramped exam room. It was a label I’d only recently acquired. A year ago, it had seemed silly to obtain government proof of what we’d known to be true for six years: We were life partners. Now I was so grateful we signed that piece of paper.
Earlier that morning, I’d driven my husband to an ER in Torrance for what we’d assumed was a nasty flu or its annoying bacterial equivalent. We’d imagined a round of industrial-grade antibiotics, and then heading home in time for our 3-year-old’s usual bath-time routine.
But the doctor’s face was serious. Machines beeped and whirred as my husband laid on the hospital bed. Whatever supernatural power colloquially known as a “gut feeling” flat-lined in my stomach.
“It’s leukemia,” she said, putting a clinical end to what had been our honeymoon period.
Only six months earlier, a female Elvis impersonator had declared us husband and wife. A burlesque dancer pressed her cleavage into both of our faces as our friends cheered and threw dollar bills. A wedding in Vegas was my idea.
After two years of dating Marty, a cute roller hockey player with an unwavering moral compass, I knew I wanted to have a child with him. It was marriage, not commitment, that unnerved me. I wanted romance, freedom and to do things my way. The word “wife” induced an allergic reaction.
As Marty and I became parents and navigated adulthood together, my resistance to matrimony started to feel like an outdated quirk. The emotional equivalent of a person still rocking a septum piercing long after they stopped listening to punk music.
Marty had shown me, over and over, what it was to be a teammate. He’d rubbed my back through hours of labor, made late-night runs for infant Tylenol and was never afraid to cry at the sad parts of movies or take the occasional harsh piece of feedback about his communication style. And like all good teams, we kicked ass together. So why was I still resisting something that meant so much to him? To our family?
One random Saturday, at the Hawthorne In-N-Out Burger, after Marty ordered fries as a treat for our son, I finally said, “Screw it. Let’s get married.”
The wedding day was raucous and covered in glitter. We both wore white. Our son’s jacket had a roaring tiger stitched onto the back and was layered over his toddler-size tuxedo T-shirt. Loved ones from all over the country flew to meet us in a tiny pink chapel. A neon heart buzzed over our heads as we vowed to “love each other in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”
I couldn’t have imagined then that the next chapel I’d be in would be the hospital prayer room. Or that I would have begged a God I struggle to believe in to please spare Marty’s life.
Unlike our decision to marry, acute leukemia came on suddenly. Over the course of a few weeks, Marty’s bone marrow had flooded his blood with malignant cells. Treatment was urgent. He was taken by ambulance from the ER to the City of Hope hospital in Duarte, a part of Los Angeles County we’d never had a reason to visit before.
Traditionally the 50th wedding anniversary is celebrated with gold, the 25th with silver and the first with paper. But we couldn’t even afford to look paper-far-ahead anymore. Instead, we celebrated that the specific genetic modifiers of Marty’s cancer were treatable, the good chemo days and his being able to walk to the hospital lobby to see our son for the first time in weeks.
Leukemia has taught me things such as: how to inject antifungal medication into the open PICC (peripherally inserted central catheter) line in Marty’s veins, how to explain to our son that “Papa will be sleeping with the doctors for a long while so they can help him feel better” and that to do the hibbity-dibbity with a person going through chemo, you must wear a condom. But mostly my husband’s sickness has taught me about healthy love.
When we had a child together, we’d committed to being in each other’s lives forever. But marriage was different. We’d already made a promise to our son, but when we got married, we made one to each other and ourselves. We had gone all in.
Since his diagnosis two months ago, there have been so many ways we’ve shown love for each other. People assume that I would do all the caregiving, but it’s more than that. Yes, I’ve washed my husband’s feet when he couldn’t bend down, been the only parent at preschool dropoff and pickup, and advocated on Marty’s behalf to his health insurance with only a few choice expletives.
But my husband has also taken care of me. Even when he was nauseous, sweating and fatigued, Marty showed up. He made me laugh with macabre jokes about how the only way for us to watch anything other than “PAW Patrol” on TV together was for him to get hospitalized. He insisted that I make time to rest and bring him the car owner’s manual, so he could figure out why the check engine light had come on.
We’d promised in front of our closest friends and Elvis herself to love each other “for better or worse.” And when the worst arrived sooner than expected, we did more than love. We truly cared for each other as husband and wife.
The author is a writer whose short stories have been nominated for the PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers and Best of the Net. She is working on a novel and lives in Redondo Beach with her husband and son. She’s on Instagram: @RachelReallyChapman.
L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
Lifestyle
Ziggy Stardust and Hacky Sack: What life was like the last time we went to the moon
David Bowie debuted his Ziggy Stardust persona and released The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars in 1972 — the last year humans went to the moon.
Evening Standard/Getty Images/Hulton Archive
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Evening Standard/Getty Images/Hulton Archive
The Artemis II rocket launched on Wednesday, carrying astronauts to the moon for the first time in over half a century.
The four-person crew is headed on a 10-day, 230,000-mile journey around the moon and back — a pivotal test of the Orion spacecraft that NASA hopes will bring future astronauts to the lunar surface as soon as 2028 and Mars after that.
The last time humans went to the moon was the Apollo 17 mission in December 1972.

The final Apollo mission involved three astronauts: Command module pilot Ronald Evans orbited above as Eugene Cernan and Harrison “Jack” Schmitt — a professional geologist, in a notable first — touched down on the moon’s Taurus-Littrow valley.
The pair spent just over three days on the lunar surface, collecting some 250 pounds of moon rock and soil samples. They set multiple records, including the longest stay on the moon (75 hours), the most lunar samples collected and the longest mission duration at 12 days, 14 hours.
NASA astronaut Eugene Cernan, commander of the Apollo 17 lunar mission, is welcomed back to Earth after splashing down in the Pacific Ocean on Dec. 19, 1972.
NASA/Getty Images/Hulton Archive
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NASA/Getty Images/Hulton Archive
The crew knew they would be the last to visit the moon at least for the foreseeable future, as NASA had decided two years earlier to cancel the remaining Apollo missions, primarily due to budget cuts.
Cernan became the last human to walk on the moon on Dec. 14, 1972. He acknowledged the significance of the moment out loud as he stepped off the lunar surface, seemingly nodding to Neil Armstrong’s infamous words from the 1969 moon landing.
“As we leave the moon and Taurus-Littrow, we leave as we came — and God willing as we shall return: with peace, and in hope, for all mankind,” said Cernan, who died in 2023.
A lot has changed in the 53 years since. Here’s what life was like the last time astronauts launched to the moon.
A banner year for geopolitics, pop culture and technology
Richard Nixon became the first U.S. president to visit China in February 1972.
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The year 1972 is in many ways synonymous with upheaval: the uncovering of the Watergate scandal, “Bloody Sunday” in Northern Ireland, the “Munich massacre” at the 1972 Olympics, North Vietnam’s “Easter Offensive” in the final years of the Vietnam War — and antiwar protests at college campuses and political conventions.
That was the year President Nixon announced that no more draftees would be sent to Vietnam, and the year he visited China in a presidential first.
The Volkswagen Beetle officially surpassed the Ford Model T as the most popular — and most-produced — car in the world. And a gallon of regular gasoline cost 36 cents, or the equivalent of $2.53 a gallon today, according to the AARP.
Herbie, the anthropomorphic Volkswagen Beetle featured in the 1969 Disney film The Love Bug, terrorizes a young woman at a car show in Berlin in June 1972.
Keystone/Getty Images/Hulton Archive
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Keystone/Getty Images/Hulton Archive
1972 was also a major year for still-beloved cultural creations. It marked the debut of David Bowie’s alter ego Ziggy Stardust, the formation of ABBA, the opening of Grease on Broadway. The top-selling album of the year was Neil Young’s Harvest, and the biggest box office hit was The Godfather, which came out in March.
Fashion was dominated by bold colors and patterns, bell-bottoms, shawls, platform shoes and synthetic fabrics, as part of “the Polyester Decade.” Style icons included Bianca Jagger, Jane Birkin and Diana Ross.
Mick Jagger and Bianca Jagger, pictured in 1972, were among the style icons of the era.
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Central Press/Getty Images/Hulton Archive
There was a lot of news, but fewer ways to consume it. Some 95 percent of U.S. households owned televisions, according to Census data, and just three commercial broadcast networks dominated the airwaves: ABC, CBS and NBC. Total print newspaper circulation reached a record 62.5 million, before it began to drop.
And of course, it was a time of innovation — and not just in space. The digital watch made its debut. Atari published “Pong,” the first commercially successful arcade video game. Other key inventions from that year include the floppy disk, the first handheld scientific calculator (the HP-35) and the Hacky Sack. McDonald’s Egg McMuffin entered test markets, and Shrinky Dinks were on the brink of creation.
According to Merriam Webster, some of the words recorded in print for the first time in 1972 include: animatronic, beer pong, bird flu, habanero, garage band, glam rock, lowrider, page-turner, sound bite, spaghetti strap, veggie burger, women’s studies and yard sale. Far out!
Lifestyle
Track your steps? Here’s a less obvious way to improve your health
As far as wellness trends go, small talk isn’t sexy. The same with participating in civic government or helping a neighbor carry their groceries. But connecting with others might be the ultimate form of self-care, according to psychiatrist Joanna Cheek.
Shelf Help is a wellness column where we interview researchers, thinkers and writers about their latest books — all with the aim of learning how to live a more complete life.
In her book, “It’s Not You, It’s the World: A Mental Health Survival Guide for Us All,” published in February, the University of British Columbia professor makes a case for the health benefits of collective care. For example, Cheek cites research that connects altruistic behavior and a sense of purpose with reduced inflammation, as opposed to hedonistic pursuits, which can worsen inflammation.
Perhaps most importantly, Cheek warns how individual solutions aren’t enough to protect and heal us. “Emotional alarms” such as fear, guilt, shame and anger are healthy signals that help us avoid obstacles and find rewards, she says. When it comes to poverty, discrimination, isolation and other systemic problems, a sense of “moral distress” warns us away from harm and toward a more just, equitable society. And taking small steps to connect with others — even as simple as engaging in idle chitchat with a stranger — can be an impetus for broader change.
Portrait of author Joanna Cheek.
(Tegan McMartin)
“I’m constantly trying to think about socializing in the same way I think about exercise or physical activity,” says Cheek. “In the same way I eat a certain amount of vegetables or have a certain amount of quiet time to meditate, I think, ‘Have I had enough social contact today?’”
People obsessively track their steps. They might want to count their social interactions, too, she says. Those moments can build confidence and trust, until the momentum transforms us and the communities we call home.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
In the book, you quote the renowned psychiatrist Viktor Frankl, who wrote, “Happiness cannot be pursued. It must ensue.” Why should we focus on cultivating purpose instead of pursuing happiness?
There are a lot of studies that show that cultivating any emotional state — happiness in particular, but also calmness or lack of anxiety — actually backfires. The more we try to feel a certain way, we inevitably won’t, because we don’t have much control over how we feel and then we’ll compare it to some standard of how we should feel, which will only magnify our suffering.
Rather than chase an emotion, which is futile because our emotions are constantly shifting, we can chase purpose, which gives us a lasting sense of accomplishment, because we’re living in line with our values. That’s true wellness.
“It’s Not You. It’s The World” book cover bo Joanna Cheek, MD.
(Hachette Book Group)
How can people who feel isolated take steps toward cultivating purpose with others?
There was a large study that reviewed studies on loneliness. It showed it posed the same risk as smoking 15 cigarettes a day. I was utterly shocked when I read that, and started a deep dive and met [author and professor of psychology at the University of Sussex] Gillian Sandstrom. Her research shows that connections don’t need to be with the love of our life, a tight-knit family or best friends. When we have contact with a barista at the coffee shop, someone delivering the mail or just say hello to a neighbor who’s walking their dog past you, these weak ties actually have similar benefits to having really deep, personal connections. She ran a study with students at her university and found even if they had no friends in class, if they talked to strangers, they felt better and had more wellness indicators.
When we’re separated from others, we haven’t really evolved that fast, so it sets off alarms in our bodies. When you talk to someone at the grocery store, it’s like, “Oh, I’m not alone, I’m OK, I belong to something.” It silences those alarms so they don’t keep going off.
So it’s beneficial for us to have social interactions. How does it help our communities?
The more that we’re connecting with each other, the more we’re talking across differences, the more that we speak with people of different lived experiences, different politics, different cultural backgrounds, different ages, different levels of health and abilities and needs, then we can have more empathy and really take care for each other and make decisions that are based on the truth that we’re all connected.
Building community can start with weak ties. It can be really scary to join a new group in person. When we talk about anxiety, we talk about graduated exposure, where we don’t expose ourselves to the scariest things right away. So sometimes baby steps can help us get comfortable with weak ties. Then, with time, we can move toward deeper contact.
I just had knee surgery this summer, and I ended up doing a lot of water walking in the pool for rehab, and I was amazed at this community pool. There were all these people who were either retired or injured there during the day and I would have so many conversations. And so often we think that these connections don’t matter because we’re not building a friendship that might continue on. What is the point? The point is that through each interaction, we’re building a sense of community for everybody. And it doesn’t have to be more than one interaction. It helps create a sense that we can trust each other and we can learn from each other. It feels good to be in connection and that makes us want to care for one another.
(Maggie Chiang / For The Times)
You mention the term McMindfulness in the book. Could you describe what that means and why it can be damaging?
Yeah, there are a lot of concerns about quick fixes for mental health. I speak a lot about how mental health is really about the health of our entire systems. When we sit with that, it can be overwhelming to recognize that we can’t be well until our systems are well. We can practice wellness, we can do the best we can, but feeling better in a sick world isn’t going to fix us. We need to fix the world. McMindfulness is taking people in a toxic workplace and giving them mindfulness classes and not changing the toxic structures of the workplace. We should ask, “Why are they having these symptoms? And how do we make this workplace healthy so that our workers aren’t constantly falling sick?”
People need a sense of agency to thrive. But examining big problems through a systemic lens can create the impression we don’t have control over our lives. How do you reconcile the two?
Every connection we have, every time we live in a way with care and kindness, when we’re offering mutual aid or caring for our neighbors, those little things become contagious. Day to day, we can choose if we’re going to share our resources, whether that be our time, our care, our inclusiveness. Every time we choose to care for others, it’s contagious. It creates a culture. And every little connection like that matters. So while stress and dysfunction can ripple outward, I think our kindness and our unity and our caring can also ripple outward.
TAKEAWAYS
From “It’s Not You, It’s the World: A Mental Health Survival Guide for Us All”
That sounds wonderfully optimistic.
I think a lot about hope and I think hope has to be active. I think we can’t just passively wish for a brighter future. And so I like to think about what agency I have today. It doesn’t have to be becoming the next world leader or finding a cure for cancer. What matters is every little decision I make to make the world a little bit brighter.
Lifestyle
‘The Super Mario Galaxy Movie’ remembers every Nintendo moment ever : Pop Culture Happy Hour
Mario (Chris Pratt) in The Super Mario Galaxy Movie.
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Universal Pictures
The Super Mario Galaxy Movie is the ultimate piece of Nintendo fan service. Mario (Chris Pratt), Luigi (Charlie Day), Princess Peach (Anya Taylor-Joy) are on an outer space adventure to save Princess Rosalina (Brie Larson). The film features other beloved Nintendo characters like Bowser (Jack Black) and Yoshi (Donald Glover) – and a few surprises. It’s a sequel to The Super Mario Bros. Movie, which made more than a billion dollars worldwide.
Follow Pop Culture Happy Hour on Letterboxd at letterboxd.com/nprpopculture
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