Forty-three years ago this Friday, my wife and I walked out of the front door of the Sebastopol Methodist Church with rings on our fingers and a piece of paper signed by the minister saying we were hitched. It was a beautiful summer day. The church was packed. The bride stunning, and the rest of us looking a little on the “dated” side judging from the wedding photos of me and my groomsmen in chocolate brown tuxes and the bridesmaids in some really flowerdy long sun dresses. It stuck, though. The marriage did.
I think it is safe to say we have long since passed the halfway point in this union. If we lived another 43 years Danny would be 108 and me 106. I don’t want to be 106. I’m not crazy about 63 but that is a heck of a lot better than 106.
As they say, time flies when you are having a good time. We must have been having a really good time since 1981 because the time has indeed shot by like a rocket to the moon.
Forty-three years is a lot of years by today’s standards. I was only 20 and she 22 at the time we pledged our vows. Technically, I guess you could say she was a cradle robber and I’m certainly glad she was.
We’ve probably owned enough pets to fill a zoo over the years, and most of the time, like Noah, we have been able to count our dogs two by two. Never again, we say after the current elderly pair of pups are gone...but maybe.
We are cat-free at the moment, however, we do feed the strays that wander by along with the raccoons and an old scraggly possum or two.
We’ve had rabbits and turtles and frogs and fish. We were even tricked into adopting a couple of guinea pigs once which we promptly adopted right back out.
I lost count — several vehicles back — of how many car payments we’ve made over the years and to that I say never again too — or maybe — but cars are too expensive these days. In addition, there were also a couple of tents, two campers, and a canoe in the mix somewhere along the way, and right now I’ve got a kayak that hasn’t touched water in three or four years. What a waste.
When it comes to homes, let me see, we rented our first home in Starkville, lived in a camper in Newton, and borrowed my grandmother’s house at Sulpher Springs before moving to the Delta where we rented again. Next we bought a 1920s era bungalow in Clarksdale, fixed it up and sold it to move to Carrollton where we bought a lovely old Victorian farmhouse built in 1905. We restored that one to her glory days then moved into a snake infested rental on the Ross Barnett Reservoir before buying a two story saltbox across and down the street on a peaceful little circle.
Today, we split our time between the reservoir on the weekends and our old farm house in Sebastopol which orignally belonged to my greatgrandfather. They are quite different in styles but so is our taste.
I suppose it is easy to identify the greatest accomplishment of our marriage as being our 31-year-old daughter, Rachel-Johanna. She is beautiful and smart and is very accomplished in life. We couldn’t be prouder. She has a big ole bouncy dog named Lady that is too big to be a puppy but likes to attack us whenever we see her. We love her even though it hurts sometimes if you are not on your guard and she sees you first.
So, happy anniversary to my bride of 43 years. The years have flown by much more quickly than I would have liked and I’m afraid that part isn’t going to slow down anytime soon. What you say we savor every moment and celebrate every single day for the next “however many years” that are before us? Just as long as it isn’t 43. I don’t want to be 106!
I’d say we got a pretty good head start on that last week in New Orleans even though I’m dragging a bit as the week rolls on.
Perhaps we should start the celebration with a nap. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. A nap it is!
