They don't allow 15 year olds to marry anymore . . . naw; we were 20 and 22! But we forgot to have someone take our photograph last evening, all gussied up for a nice dinner (Old age I guess.).
The first time I heard the following song, probably introduced to me by one of the big boys, I thought, Well that perfectly sums up my New England upbringing and falling for a Confederate boy on a motorcycle.
Over the years we've cobbled together a nice mix of proper New England and easy-going country; something like this:
When the babies and tears started coming and the money and fears started leaving, we happily settled into a real, good life; something like this:
And now, we're trying not to blink too much; something like this:
Ken's summation; something like this:
So for all those who never thought we'd make it, or at least never thought we'd amount to much, I say Ha Ha. Because I'm classy like that. Actually, how about, I do desire we may be better strangers. Because I love the proper Bard and his proper insults!
I still think that I (and all the children) got the better deal and I'd choose my country boy all over again. In fact, I really miss that motorcycle! Happy 22nd Anniversary, Ken.