Out of the Inkwell

Thirty years ago today, as I write this, I was at our wedding reception. It was quite a party with dramas that only a wedding reception could have. I won't go into them as to protect the guilty.

But there are some folks who should pay me hush money!

Today is our wedding anniversary and we've made it to the 30 year mark. Considering the state of the institution of marriage in this country, we've beat the odds so far.

When I met Mary she had no idea who Max Fleischer was. She had never milked any sort of animal or been much on a farm. She had no idea why someone would see value in, for example, the cinema of Ted V. Mikels.

I made the mistake of referring to her as a native of England (She's Scottish and raised in Glasgow). I had never heard of Billy Connolly. I didn't know haggis from bridies.

Over the years I learned from her and she from me. We moved into our home, got our first puppy and acquired a foster child all in the same month. We've seen friends come and go, seen business arrangements crumble and lost people close to us.

Such is life.

We're now grandparents to two wonderful girls. Our foster daughter – who is our daughter to us – is happily married. I have a nephew who seems to actually like my stuff – that's a relief to Mary. Our karma is being adjusted by Lucky the Wonder Bichon on a daily basis. We have six cats. And that's the limit. I'm putting my foot down.

Through it all she has put up with me. I'm sure it hasn't been easy.

We do have some rules. We've never gone to bed angry with each other – well, hardly ever. We always talk about big purchases or allocation of cash. We don't take each other for granted. We give each other some space.

I hope we make it to another 30. At least 20. We'd like to be invited to our granddaughters' weddings.