The portable marriage

0

After Debbi Ross drives to the Yellowknife airport to pick up her husband, after she sets out the hors d'oeuvre she has prepared for him, after she has poured him a full-bodied glass of Amarone, the couple will do a whole lot of nothing whatsoever.

"It's his favourite wine," says the petite, 51-year-old brunette. "It costs $50 or $60, but it's worth it, it's a special occasion. It's one we hardly ever want to share with anybody. We just sit and drink it with the curtains closed."

It's a moment Ms. Ross has been looking forward to for three weeks. Her husband, Harry O'Keefe, 60, does IT support for remote communities - this time in Arviat, Nunavut - and he's away two to four weeks at a time, several times a year. A busy HR professional working for diamond mines in Yellowknife, Ms. Ross can't follow him. In fact, she's often away on her own business trips.

They're not alone. In 2006, roughly one in 40 married couples lived apart across Canada, a leap from five years earlier, when the number was closer to one in 60, according to Statistics Canada. And as more Canadian couples are facing the choice to live apart for career or finances, the modern marriage has become a more portable one.

"It's no longer, will you follow me?" says Paul Hunter. The CBC correspondent has been married to another journalist, CTV's Joy Malbon, since 2002, though they began dating each other at school in the eighties. They spent three years splitting their time between Ottawa, where Mr. Hunter was based, and her digs in Washington.

Now, Mr. Hunter has managed to transfer to the U.S. capital - where he sat last week, amid suitcases and boxes in a half-unpacked apartment. They've upgraded from her one-bedroom pied à terre to a more spacious place. He's been reporting there for just under a year and received word on July 15 that he's been permanently assigned. Their house in Ottawa is now on the market. He says there's good reason for them to have dealt with the uncertainty this long.

"One of the things I love about my wife is she has a job she loves and is engaged with," he says. "It's very much a part of her. If it happens to be a job that's hard to transfer, we can deal with that."

"Traditionally, it's been the female partner following the male," says Hugh Armstrong, a professor in the School of Social Work at Carleton University. "In many cases they are working service jobs that are available anywhere."

But as women make up a larger proportion of the professional work force, it has impacted some couples' ability to be together. Especially if you're in a field like academia or law, you often have to go where the jobs are.

"There may not be a choice, especially if you want a career," Mr. Armstrong says. "Someone has the opportunity for a new job in a new town, while their partner doesn't want to give up their old job. It's a rising trend."

That's true in Mr. Armstrong's own marriage. His wife of 40 years, Pat, is a professor of sociology and women's studies at York University in Toronto. Over the course of their careers they have lived apart on three separate occasions, including a stint that has lasted for ten years and counting.

"I'm on the train pretty often," he says. "It works for us, but we have worked at making it work. It doesn't happen that way on its own."

The arrangement has its challenges, commuter spouses say.

"As long as you're willing to go on living like displaced people, it's fine," says Oona Eisenstadt,44 a professor of Jewish studies and religious studies at Pomona College in California. Her common-law husband, Zdravko Planinc,55, teaches religious studies at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ont.. Their five-year-old, Eila, lives with her.

"Money is an issue," she says. "Fiscally, I'm a single mother. Not only that, I'm a single mother who has to buy airline seats."

The situation in their field is improving, as more colleges and universities adopt spousal hiring policies - allowing them to attract married academics by offering positions to both spouses. But Pomona has no such policy.

It can be difficult to be apart, and then adjust to being together again, Ms. Eisenstadt says. "The first few days I'm with him, I have to really school myself not to be a bitch. Because he's like, in my space. You lose the habit of being with other people. You become selfish about your own time."

Ms. Ross finds she has to puts energy into keeping contact while Harry is gone. "I try to stick little notes in his suitcase or toolbox," she says. "I stuff notes in his socks, or stick chocolates and cards in. He's still thrilled to find an unexpected note."

But there are perks to living a flight away, Ms. Eisenstadt says. She and Mr. Planinc hardly fight: "We don't have the luxury."

Sarah Lublink, 29, has too little shared time for her liking. Her husband Mike Daley works in public relations in Britain, where he moved a few months ago. Meanwhile, she's in London, Ont., teaching philosophy at The University of Western Ontario.Ms. Lublink and her husband hope this will be a temporary arrangement, and she has no regrets.

"I never thought of myself as a career-focused woman until I saw how shocked some people were I was willing to live apart from my husband to take a job," Ms. Lublink says. "It's made me realize my career is very important to me - and my marriage is very important to me. Both of those things can be true. I don't necessarily have to have the traditional marriage to have a good marriage."