My wife and I recently marked our 45th wedding anniversary. This is a mathematical impossibility as I feel as though I’m not a day over 40. But maybe that’s just my intractable immaturity talking.

My wife was 22 and I was 23 when we were wed. Knowing what we know now, we know that we were too young to know what we didn’t know. Plus, it means that we’ve been married for two-thirds of our lives. Will that fraction keep creeping upward until it reaches 100%?

Time will tell.

I can’t help but feel that my wife and I are hopelessly out of style. Why?

I’m ashamed to admit this, but neither one of us has ever been divorced. Not (according to my wife) that this option hasn’t been seriously considered, especially when I flout that federal law regarding the position of the toilet seat and she narrowly escapes a midnight baptism.

So, what’s the secret to a long and happy marriage?

According to many popular women’s magazines, there are about a zillion such secrets to be had. Sadly, I’ve only managed to learn a precious few. Even so, I will gladly share what little I’ve gleaned.

One of the most important things I’ve learned over the decades is that it’s difficult to remain angry with someone who makes you laugh. As a result, I’ve gotten into the habit of trying to make my wife laugh every day, even if I’m pretty sure that I haven’t done anything wrong. Seldom are my efforts unnecessary.

Every night, just before we put out the lights, I’ll turn to her and say, “Hey, Honey, look at this. I’ve got a little something for you!” And then she’ll laugh and laugh. Fortunately, my wife had a sheltered childhood, and those Bazooka Joe comics are all new to her.

Another valuable tip that can keep you on the road to marital bliss is that a little forgetfulness can go a long way. It all depends on context, of course. I have forgotten my wife’s birthday numerous times, after which I’ll apologize and try to make it up to her somehow.

“Don’t worry,” she’ll say with a wave of a hand. “It’s just another birthday. I’m fine with forgetting it.”

That only makes me feel worse, and I tell myself that I need to redouble my efforts to remember such things. Or at least remember to plug them into my iPhone’s calendar.

What I mean by “forgetting” is learning to let certain things go. You cannot hold a years-long grudge over something like a toilet seat left in the incorrect position. Grudges are like pebbles in your shoe. Let too many pebbles accumulate and your amble through life will be miserable.

A little luck never hurts. When we became engaged, we chose a March 21st wedding date. Folks who live in this neck of the woods know that this was a roll of the dice. Any particular day in March can bring anything from a blizzard to blazing sunshine.

We were lucky. Our wedding day dawned clear and bright, and it was so balmy that my wife was able to conduct final preparations in shirtsleeves.

The mercury hit 80° F on our most recent wedding anniversary. Our region had been ravaged by a raging blizzard a few days earlier.

We’ve been through a lot over the past four and a half decades. Just during the first 10 years of our marriage, I was attacked by a Holstein bull, we went through a farm bankruptcy, a fire destroyed a barn and killed several head of cattle, and I nearly died in a manure pit accident.

Over the years, we’ve been hit by wave after wave of similar events, including a derecho, a tornado, and my recent bout with tonsil cancer.

A less enlightened guy might joke that it appears that being married to my wife has resulted in a lengthy string of bad luck. The opposite is true. She has stood by my side throughout all of life’s large and small calamities, always loving, ever supportive. She’s my best friend and the best girl a guy could ever wish for. She is certainly much better than I deserve.

One of my favorite family photos was taken shortly after we brought our eldest son home from the hospital. We hadn’t yet been married for a year, and I was holding a squirming, squeaking newborn in my arms. Even though I didn’t know what I was doing, my wife was nonetheless gazing at me with a look of unbridled love and devotion.

That photo isn’t on my iPhone, but it’s one I’ll never forget.

— Jerry’s book, “Dear County Agent Guy” can be found at www.workman.com and in bookstores nationwide.