For the Long Haul

Slightly over fifty-one years ago I was standing stiffly at a church altar in a small Southern Baptist church in Waco, Texas.  I was resplendent in my $29.00 black H.I.S. suit adorned by a drooping white corsage.  Yes, of course, my beautiful bride-to-be was there as well.  We were there together at the departure point for a marital journey of unknown character and duration.  My pulse rate was in in the red zone, and the preacher might as well have been speaking in tongues.  Presumably, I did repeat after him the marriage vows and did not drop the cheap wedding band that we had bought on layaway at Nathan’s Jewelers in San Angelo.  Thus our marriage was...