“Remember how we always said, ‘You can do it if you want, but you don’t have to?’ Well if you start this, you can’t quit’,” said Howard, recalling a conversation he had with his parents decades before. “You don’t have to do other parts on other shows, if you don’t want, but you’d have to keep doing this one.”
Explaining that he understood the message his parents were delivering, Howard adds, “I think it was pretty clear at that point that I was enjoying it, and I was good at it.”
Actually, he was great at it, and he was about to reach a level of stratospheric stardom.
Howard’s ‘Happy Days’
While starring in The Andy Griffith Show, Howard also appeared on the big screen in 1962’s The Music Man, a musical film that was a huge commercial success.
A natural talent, he then starred in 1973’s American Graffiti, which also starred Harrison Ford, Richard Dreyfuss and Cindy Williams, whom he would work alongside in the future.
It was in 1974 when he was cast as Richie Cunningham in a new series created by Garry Marshall called Happy Days, which appeared on TV screens in homes across the world from 1974 to 1984.
The TV show spawned a few popular spin-offs like Laverne & Shirley, starring Williams and Marshall’s sister Penny, and Mork & Mindy with Robin Williams as Mork, the favorite Orkan.
High school sweetheart
It was in 1970 – before he won a Golden Globe for his performance as the innocent teenager on Happy Days – that Howard met the high school sweetheart, Cheryl Alley, whom he would marry in 1975.
“I met her, and there was never anybody else,” Speaking with People, the director of the Da Vinci Code continued, “She’s unbelievably supportive and always has been. Our compatibility has endured through all kinds of experiences.”
After 50 years of shared experiences, Howard, who earned an Oscar for directing A Beautiful Mind, commemorated the 50th anniversary of his first date with Cheryl on Instagram.
“Nov 1 1970 Cheryl & I went on our 1st date,” he wrote alongside a photo of himself wearing socks with images of Cheryl’s face. “We went to see a re-release of Stanley Kramer’s It’s a Mad Mad Mad World and then got some pizza at now defunct Barnone’s in Toluca Lake. Quite a start, right?”
He also shared their plans that day, “We’ll be driving in the same ‘70 VW Bug I picked Cheryl up in 5 decades ago. It runs great. So do we.”
His ‘good luck charm’
Cheryl made several cameos in Howard’s projects and even played herself on the TV comedy series Arrested Development, produced and narrated by Howard.
Speaking with the Television Academy, Ron called Cheryl his “good luck charm,” and explained that is why she appears in every film he makes.
“At a certain point, I became very superstitious about making sure that she appears, that she’s at least identifiable in one frame,” he said. “They don’t have to be big cameos, but she’s gotta be in there.”
In addition to bringing her husband some luck, Cheryl is also a published author who holds a bachelor’s degree in psychology and a master’s degree in screenwriting.
The power couple are grandparents to six children and the parents of four, daughter Bryce, twins Paige and Jocelyn and son Reed.
Bryce – a recognizable actor – is known for roles in movies like Jurassic World and The Help, while Paige made her feature film debut in the 2009 movie Adventureland. Since she’s appeared in films The Employer and Collection.
Reed is a professional golfer and Paige’s twin sister Jocelyn is very private.
The secret to longevity
Nearing their 49th anniversary on June 7, the Emmy Award-winning producer shares that “communication” is the secret to their enduring love.
“People say, ‘How’d you do it?’ There’s no technique,” Howard tells People. “There’s no tactic, other than communication is really important. You have to learn to communicate and have difficult conversations in constructive ways. Beyond that, there’s an element of luck because people either grow together or they don’t and I don’t think you can force that.”
I Discovered My Husband Mocks Me in Front of His Friends & I Taught Him a Lesson He’ll Never Forget
I’m a full-time mom. About a year ago, I left my job to take care of our three-year-old daughter, who is autistic and requires a lot of support. Lately, I’ve noticed that my usually feminist husband has been criticizing me in a group chat.
Transitioning into the role of a stay-at-home mom (SAHM) wasn’t something I had envisioned for myself. I used to thrive in the fast-paced world of marketing, surrounded by campaigns and fueled by brainstorming sessions over coffee. But all that changed a little over a year ago when my husband, Jake, and I made a significant decision. Our daughter, Lily, who is three and autistic, needed more attention than what her daycare could provide. Her needs are complex, requiring constant care and support, and it became clear that one of us had to be with her full-time.
I won’t sugarcoat it — leaving my career behind was one of the toughest decisions I’ve ever made. I miss the freedom of earning my own income and the satisfaction of a job well done. But here I am now, spending my days planning meals, cooking, and baking. I’ve found joy in these tasks, and experimenting in the kitchen has become my new creative outlet.
Our backyard has turned into a small garden oasis under my care, and I take care of most of the household chores. Jake does his fair share too; he’s actively involved in chores and parenting whenever he’s at home. We’ve always considered ourselves equals, rejecting traditional gender roles, or so I thought until last week.
It was a regular Thursday, and I was tidying up Jake’s home office while he was at work. It’s filled with tech gadgets and piles of paperwork, typical for someone in software development. His computer screen caught my eye — it was still on, casting a soft glow in the dim room. He usually left it on by accident, but what I saw next wasn’t accidental at all.
His Twitter feed was open, and I froze when I saw the hashtag #tradwife attached to a tweet. Confusion washed over me as I read the post. It glorified the joys of having a traditional wife who embraces her domestic duties. Attached was a photo of me, taking a batch of cookies out of the oven, looking every bit like a 1950s housewife. My stomach churned as I scrolled through more posts. There I was again, tending to the garden and reading to Lily, our faces thankfully obscured.
This was Jake’s account, and he had been crafting a whole narrative about our life that was far from reality. He portrayed me as a woman who relished her role as a homemaker, willingly sacrificing her career for aprons and storybooks. The truth of our situation — that this arrangement was a necessity for our daughter’s well-being — was nowhere to be seen.
I felt betrayed. Here was the man I’d loved and trusted for over a decade, sharing our life with strangers under a false pretense that felt foreign to me. It wasn’t just the lies about our relationship dynamics that hurt — it was also the realization that he was using these glimpses of our life to bolster some online persona.
I shut the computer down, my hands trembling with a mix of anger and bewilderment. All day, I grappled with my emotions, trying to comprehend why Jake would do this. Was he dissatisfied with our situation? Did he resent my decision to stay home? Or was it something deeper, a shift in how he perceived me now that I wasn’t contributing financially?
The rest of the day passed in a blur. His posts kept replaying in my mind, and eventually, I couldn’t ignore them any longer. I decided to call him and address everything head-on.
“Jake, we need to talk,” I finally said, trying to keep my voice steady.
He answered, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong?”
I took a deep breath, the weight of my discovery weighing heavily on me. “I saw your Twitter today…”
His expression fell, and he let out a long sigh, indicating he knew exactly what this conversation was about to entail. He started to respond, but I interrupted him.
“Calm down,” he said, dismissing it as “just harmless posting.” That was the final straw. I told him I wanted a divorce, called him out for his deceit, and ended the call.
Jake rushed home immediately. We argued, but with Lily’s strict schedule, I couldn’t let the conflict drag on. He pleaded with me to have a proper conversation after putting Lily to bed. Reluctantly, I agreed. That night, he showed me his phone, revealing that he had deleted the Twitter account. But the damage was already done.
A week passed, and my anger hadn’t subsided. This wasn’t a simple misunderstanding. It was a breach of trust. Jake attempted to explain, claiming it started as a joke, but he got carried away with the attention it garnered. But excuses weren’t enough.
Motivated by a mix of hurt and the need for justice, I decided to expose him. I took screenshots of his tweets and shared them on my Facebook page. I wanted our friends and family to know the truth. My post was straightforward: “Your husband belittles you in front of his friends behind your back. Sound familiar?”
The response was immediate. Our relatives were shocked, and the comments poured in. Jake was inundated with messages and calls. He left work early once more to beg for my forgiveness. He knelt, tears in his eyes, pleading that it was all just a “silly game.”
But I couldn’t let it go. The trust that bound us together was broken. It wasn’t just about a few misguided posts; it was about the respect and understanding we were supposed to have for each other. I told him I needed time and space to think and heal. I moved out with Lily to another apartment.
For six months, Jake begged for forgiveness. He sent messages, left voicemails, and made small gestures to show he was sorry. But sorry wasn’t enough. I told him that if he truly wanted to make amends, we needed to start anew. In my eyes, we were strangers now, and he had to court me like he did years ago when we first met.
So, we began again, slowly. We went on dates, starting with coffee and progressing to dinners. We talked a lot — about everything except the past. It was like rediscovering ourselves individually and as a couple. Jake was patient, perhaps realizing this was his last chance to salvage our once-loving relationship.
As I sit here now, reflecting on the past year, I realize how much I’ve changed. This betrayal forced me to reevaluate not only my marriage but also myself and my needs. I’ve learned that forgiveness isn’t just about accepting an apology; it’s about feeling secure and valued again. It’s a gradual process, one that we’re both committed to, step by step.
What would you have done if you were in my shoes? Share your thoughts on Facebook.
Leave a Reply