Forty-eight years ago today, at 7:30 in the evening, John and I promised to love, honor and cherish each other “as long as we both shall live.” And I am still married to my best friend. We started talking during the summer of 1964 and we have hardly stopped since.
And the experiences and adventures we’ve had. We have lived in two apartments, a 12 by 60 mobile home, three houses, two condominiums and a 5th wheel RV. We raised two sons and now also enjoy two daughters-in-law and four grandchildren. Such adventures we have had, learning how to run a business, minister to people, deal with a flooded basement, sell a business and change careers.
I have waited at home while John investigated crimes and bombs for the Boulder Police Department. We purchased his family’s funeral home and learned to help people in grief. That included teaching classes all over the state about death and grief and caring for children whose parent just died.
We sold that business and moved 800 miles to Wisconsin so John could attend seminary. Ordination took us to the Colorado mountains, then to the Denver area. Along the way we traveled to Europe three times and Mexico once before discovering RVing.
And most of all, we have learned to love and support each other, helping the other to become all they could be. I followed John to the funeral home and to seminary. He agreed to move from the mountains to somewhere with more job opportunities for me. And he supported me when I became executive assistant to the Episcopal bishop—in essence, John’s boss.
Since retirement, we have had marvelous adventures—cleaning toilets in state parks, helping people enjoy national parks, leading tours in a national wildlife refuge. We have traveled all over the country and learned how to be together almost 24/7 for years on end.
I love my kind, thoughtful, generous, loving, sensitive husband who puts up with my focused, insensitive way of dealing with the world. I am so grateful we are growing old together.
Happy anniversary, sweetheart.