On this date forty-eight years ago, the best thing ever to
happen to this ol' country boy took place when a beautiful brown-eyed young
lady named Pamela Daum said those magic words – "I do" – and became
my wife.
Although we would have the marriage blessed in a Catholic
Church a few years later, our initial union came as the result of a simple
ceremony performed by a judge. We eloped, you see, probably the first serious
act of rebellion Pam ever did against her parents, thanks to the influence of
impetuous me.
Needless to say, there was a definite chill between me and
my brand new in-laws for a while, but eventually I became the favored
son-in-law. I'd like to think I earned most of this but, truth to tell, part of
it was also due to the fact that the other son-in-laws who came along to marry
Pam's sisters proved to be a parade of duds who just kept making me look better
by comparison.
The day of that first marriage, the judge scheduled to
perform the ceremony forgot the appointment and failed to show up at the
courthouse. What was more, I couldn't remember his name. So I had to go to the
cop shop next door and start doing cold calls to the list of local judges in
hopes of finding the right one; I scored on the third call and he came right
over. I always figured he must have been home engrossed in a college football
game on TV (it was a Saturday) because, when he did show up, he rattled off the
words and the pronouncement in mighty quick order and then took off again.
Which was fine with me --- all I wanted was to get started on the honeymoon
(you know the main thing on my mind).
With the dodging parents part and the absent-minded judge and
all, you might think there were some bad omens in there that should have warned
Pam and me we were off on an ill-fated venture. If there were, we failed to pay
any attention and blew right past 'em. I never regretted being married or who I
was married to for one second; I'm pretty sure Pam never did either.
We had 41 years, 3 months, and 13 days together before she
died in my arms in 2008. I could dwell on the sadness of having her gone now
--- and, believe me, I am aware of that empty feeling every minute of every day
--- but on this day I will instead think about the blessing of having had her
for as long as I did.
And why shouldn't I … it was the best thing that ever
happened to me.
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