A Date to Remember

No, it's not my wedding anniversary. But it is the anniversary of another very important day in my life; because 38 years ago today, on August 6, 1973, my husband and I officially began our courtship.

We were hanging out with some friends at one of their houses--probably bemoaning the fact that summer was going too fast, yet celebrating the fact that at least when school started up again, we'd be sophomores now instead of lowly freshmen! Then suddenly, my future husband casually asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. It was raining out; but like a good postman, I was undeterred by the weather. I would have followed this guy through rain or sleet or snow or dark of night.

I can still remember what I was wearing: my awful 70's hip-hugger bellbottom jeans and a bright yellow puffy-sleeved top that was sort of like a grown-up sized onesie, with snaps at the bottom. So although my jeans sat too low (I cringe now when I think of them), there wasn't a speck of belly flesh exposed; thank goodness for that, at least.

We walked a couple of blocks and ended up standing under the little overhanging roof of the ticket booth by the field where our school played its Friday night football games; and there, in the pouring rain, the cutest and nicest boy I'd ever met asked me to "go with" him. (That was the terminology for "going steady" back then, at least in our neck of the woods.) We were just a couple of babies, both having celebrated 15th birthdays that summer, and thus began our great romance.

Just over seven years later, with college out of the way, we got married.

And after 30-plus years of wedded bliss, we're still "going together." And he's still the cutest and nicest boy I've ever met.

(P.S.--I'd also like to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to one of my lovely nieces, with whom I share a name.)