April 11, 2019
There is no more lovely, friendly and charming relationship, communion or company than a good marriage.
On this day sixty-six years ago my wife and I got married in the Norte Dame Chapel at Columbia University. I was 18 and in the Navy, Nancy was 20 and employed at the Chase Bank in Manhattan. We had met on a blind date the previous year. I was going to school at a Navy base in Maryland, I was there for almost a year and went to New York City most weekends. When I visited I stayed with friends in Greenwich Village. Nancy and I spent our time exploring Manhattan and enjoying what it had to offer.
When I got out of the service we set up our residence in Chicago where our two daughters and our son was born. I was away on business sometimes for months at a time while my wonderful wife raised our children,
My career took us to Minnesota in 1967 and then to Indianapolis in 1969. We were asked by my employers to move away for a promotion but we chose to stay and raise our family. Indianapolis has provided us a great life. Our family has grown, we now have seven wonderful grandchildren and two greatgrandchildren.
We have had a good life enhanced by our many friends and a pleasant community. The years have treated us well and now as we spend our days together in our now senior living home we have never been closer. I am grateful for her tolerance and understanding and to my sailor friend who asked me to go on a blind date where I found my life mate.
More Time, More Love
Our sixty-sixth anniversary, Love,
Brings feelings of delight,
Thoughts of pleasure that you give me
Every day and every night.
I’m grateful for each day and hour;
I thank the Lord above
For giving me the precious gift:
Of your deep, enduring love.
As our lives go on and on,
One thing is always true:
To the very end, I’ll always wish
For more time, more love with you.
By Joanna Fuchs
“When we get to the end of our lives together, the house we had, the cars we drove, the things we possessed won’t matter. What will matter, is that I had you, and you had me.”
A lady was taking her time browsing through everything at a yard sale and said to the hostess, “My husband is going to be very angry when he finds out I stopped at a yard sale.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand when you tell him about all the bargains,” the hostess replied.
“Normally, yes,” the lady said. “But he just broke his leg, and he’s waiting for me to take him to the hospital to have it set.”
As a housewife, I feel that if the kids are still alive when my husband gets home from work, then hey, I’ve done my job.
“If you’ll make the toast and pour the juice, sweetheart,” said the newlywed bride, “breakfast will be ready.”
“Good, what are we having for breakfast,” said the new husband.
“Toast and juice,” she replied.
No husband has ever been shot while doing the dishes.
The generation gap quickly became apparent when I tried to discuss marriage with my daughter, who is very career oriented. “A husband might not tolerate your ambition forever,” I pointed out. “He might become concerned about how such total dedication to a job could fit into a successful relationship.” “You don’t understand, Dad,” my daughter countered. “It’s going to be a merger, not a takeover.”
God may have created man before woman, but there is always a rough draft before the masterpiece.
A man and woman had been married for sixty years. They kept no secrets from each other except a shoebox the woman had in the top of her closet that she had cautioned her husband never to open or ask about.
However, one day the woman got sick and the doctor said she would not recover. The man got the shoebox and took it to his wife’s bedside. She agreed it was time he should know what was in the box.
When he opened it, he found two crocheted doilies and a stack of money totaling $25,000.
She said, “When we were to be married, my grandmother told me the secret of a happy marriage was to never argue. She told me that if I ever got angry with you I should just keep quiet and crochet a doily.”
The old man was so moved he had to fight back tears. Only two doilies in the box. She had only been angry with him two times in sixty years. He almost burst with happiness.
“Honey,” he said, “that explains the doilies, but what about all of this money? Where did it come from?”
Oh,” she said, “that’s the money I made from selling doilies.”
“Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply.”
Management is not responsible for duplicates from previous dailies. The editor is somewhat senile.
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