34

On April 3, 1982, 34 years ago, Kish and I got married in Vermilion, Ohio.  It was her father’s birthday, and the weather then was just like the weather is today.  It had been nice and sunny a day or two earlier, but the clouds rolled in and the wind blew and on our wedding day it was brutally cold with snow squalls.

It’s about 6:30 a.m. as I write this.  By that time 34 years ago, I had been up for at least an hour already, after tossing and turning for most of the night.  I was filled with adrenalin, excited and nervous.  I knew I was making the right decision, but I was worried about screwing something up during the ceremony or the reception afterward.  So I got up and, in those pre-internet days, sat in my room and tried to read a book and then walked the halls for a while to deal with the burst of jittery energy.

Fortunately, Kish and I had decided to keep the wedding ceremony itself short.  We had stripped out pretty much everything but the bare minimum required of a service in her family church.  To this day, dozens of weddings later, our own wedding is the shortest wedding ceremony I’ve ever attended.  I needed to walk out to my position in front of the altar without tripping, hold Kish’s hand after she and her Dad had walked down the aisle, say I do a few minutes later, put the ring on without dropping it, and then walk out with my lovely bride.  I thought I could handle it, and later that day I did.  Seeing Kish looking beautiful in her wedding gown helped a lot.

The whole ceremony took about 15 minutes, but they were momentous minutes indeed. More than three decades later, the memories are still vivid, and the decision remains the best decision I ever made.  Happy anniversary, Skipper!