I can't believe 40-years has passed, doing so in the blink of an eye.
My parents made it to their 68th anniversary, with a party at the nursing home in which we had placed Daddy. He had Alzheimer's disease.( I hate that disease! I hate it!)
There are a lot of things Daddy didn't remember - like his home, his former friends from church who'd come to visit, how to read, how to work the remote control for his television, and many other simple things and processes we all take for granted on a daily basis - but as bad as it often was, and believe me - it was bad - whenever he'd see Mother walk in, his eyes would light up the room. He always knew her and knew she was his beautiful wife.
My husband and I have known each other since the fourth-grade when his family moved into the neighborhood that fed our elementary school. I was quite the goodie-two-shoes; never getting into any trouble at school. But one day, right after the teacher had just told all of us not to make a sound and just as we were about to take a spelling test, this little boy, with his too-big pants pulled way up over his waist tight with a skinny little belt that wrapped nearly twice around him, whispered something to me. And when I whispered back, I got caught!
I was "in trouble." Not him!
And remember when the teachers would brand you as a trouble-maker by writing your name in the upper left hand corner of the black board - for all the world to see that you were "bad?" That's what happened to me - my name went up on the black board!
I was devastated. But I was also angry with this kid.
By sixth-grade, though, we were friends, really close friends. So close, that we "went steady" during the last week of school, and played Spin-the-Bottle at a friend's party. I still have his I.D. bracelet that he gave me. I even wrote about him in my end-of-the-year autobiography, saying that my wish for my future was to be married to him.
We actually lost touch with each other in junior high and high school. By that, I mean that we didn't hang with the same crowd. We were always friendly with each other when passing in the hall, but our high school had nearly 5,000 students on three shifts, and we weren't on the same shift. He had his friends and I had mine.
Until college at Florida State University. When I sat down in my horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad geology class, there he was - a familiar face. The rest is - shall we say - history.
THEN
Picture taken in December of 1973, three months after we were married.
Neither my husband nor I were born with a silver spoon in our mouths.
But we often share this cute analogy of what we thought of each other's family.
My husband and his family are Jewish. In fact, we come from a predominately Jewish community in North Miami. Although my husband's mother was very fortunate enough to never have had to work a day in her life, his father was a hard working man, always hoping the next invention would be "the one" to take his family to new heights. In my little brain, I thought all Jews were wealthy. Period. All through school it just seemed to be that way, so I thought my husband's family was, as well.
Both of my parents worked at tough jobs nearly all their lives, and worked very hard for everything they had. Daddy loved to fish, so we had a boat while growing up in Miami. We lived on a slightly over-sized corner lot, and Dad built a large garage in the back for the boat and to use as his workshop. While I was in high school, Dad bought a pop-up camper, and when that turned out to be so much fun, he traded it in and bought a small RV. With all the adult toys parked at our house, my husband thought my family was wealthy.
Ha ha - we both got fooled.
Of course, all that being said - I wouldn't change a thing. While having a sweet inheritance would have been nice, it's not everything.
NOW
Picture taken in March 2013
My parents experienced pain, anger, temptation, disappointment, health issues and financial crisis, but their marriage was also filled with love - for each other and for their family.
So, too, have my husband and I. And as we face retirement in a few short years, my prayer is that we also fill our remaining years together with love and laughter - aiming for 65-years of our own.
Happy anniversary, honey. It's been quite the ride, but it ain't over, yet.
Silly me. I never imagined you wouldn't be here to celebrate with us, Mom. I love you. I miss you.
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