Anniversary Rememberings

One of the great words in the Bible is remember. And even if you are not a believer remembering is an anchor for all of us. President Biden told us the other day : “To heal we  must remember.” And he is right.

And as we move closer to our sixtieth (sixtieth??) anniversary memories of so many things swirl around me. 

I remember our first date at Mario’s pizza place in Louisville. I thought she was the prettiest girl I had ever met.

I  remember three years later on that coid January night when there was 10 inches of snow on the ground and she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. 

After the wedding we stopped at the first motel we saw. I remember how hard it was trying to navigate my old green Dodge through the snow to Indiana. It was pretty dangerous and we drove over the Ohio River bridge and stopped in the first motel we could find. Not exactly paradise—Gayle said: “There’s a hole in that bedspread.” (Class)

I remember we spent two glorious days after that in French Lick, Indiana a great getaway. Everything was included—even the lobster we had that night. I think our bill was less than a hundred dollars.

I remember when we got back to our Apartment in Louisville our first purchase was a used TV almost as big as a  refrigerator. The highlight of every Saturday or Sunday night was watching: “Perry Mason.”

I remember that summer I was called to a tiny clap-board church on Alternate #54. Neither one of us had ever lived in the country.

I remember they needed a choir director and Gayle  reluctantly volunteered. After a while she thought it would be good if the choir had robes (class) and we ordered these robes that had to be completed by some of the women in our church. The Sunday they were to process in, Gayle had warned the women not to wear dangling earrings and no necklaces. And so when the Choir marched in—one of the women Choir members followed the instructions but had on a huge red hat.

I remember our first child, a girl born there. After a long delivery this red-headed curly haired baby came. Gayle looked up at her said: “ Let me see her ears—I hope they don’t look like her Daddy.

I remember we moved away almost 4 years later and shipped our dog, Pooch, to Virginia in a crate. Our newly purchased Green Volkswagen  was cramped as it was.

I remember it was in Virginia that our son was born. A second redhead who almost didn’t get there. Gayle was having some trouble getting pregnant and had a procedure done at the Doctor’s office and came home to get pregnant. Well—I had the mumps.  Our son really was almost a miracle.We stayed there six years. Good folks. We brought our first color TV the day of Robert Kennedy’s funeral. 

I remember that move brought Faith Baptist Church In Georgetown, Kentucky where we stayed and loved those six years there. 

I can’t forget that all along Churchill’s black dog followed me. Depression. And my long-suffering wife said time after time: “You can make it. You’re not completely crazy.”

And from there we moved to Clemson, SC to the First Baptist Church and our son exclaimed: “They have nailed-down seats!” We left a church with folding chairs. Our daughter learned to play the Violin and our son attempted it at Montessori School.

I could write pages and pages about those thirteen years. Ups and downs there like our football team in Death Valley. Gayle taught piano to 40 students, cooked our meals, juggling our kid’s traumas and schedules while the Reverend (me) was supposedly doing the work of the Lord. Gayle worked in the music program at church and played the piano in church often.

We moved to a church in Memphis where we met some good, good friends. Gayle taught piano in the Preparatory Music Department at Rhodes College. We were there 3 years and Gayle still says we should have stayed. (She was right.)

I left after 3 years without a place to go. 55 years old and scared and the black dog trailing after me. Gayle, God bless her, did what she had done a zillion times. She believed in me, she loved me as she listened to my rantings and my ups and down.  I don’t think I could have made it with her standing there with arms out saying, again: “You’ll get something—you are good.”

I was called to the Baptist Church of the Covenant in Birmingham smack dab on the mean downtown streets. And we worked and prayed and after eight years they gave us a wonderful going away party. People came from every church I had served.  Gayle had played the piano at church, sang in the choir while still cooking meals every night and teaching a multitude of students piano.

After our retirement we went to Paris with some good friends. And one night looking out the window at the glittering lights there, I said to her, “Did you think we would ever get to Pais?” And she said: “Absolutely I knew we would do this.” 

I dragged her around to eight churches where I served as Interim. We lived in condos, old parsonages and apartments. Gayle said after eight years: “Ok. I am tired of all this traveling. I miss my house.” I said, “Yes ma’m.” And home to Birmingham we went.

After a while we moved  back to Clemson. It is a small town. I say you can get anywhere in five minutes. We love being around old friends and sitting in the pew of a church I used to serve. Sitting on the bench takes some doing—but I got used to it.

Our house here is filled with furniture we bought all over. There is so much history as I look at chairs, beds, mirrors, art work--rugs and books. I can tell you to this day where all these treasures came from.

I am winding down the memories. This is much too long but I could fill in the blanks and you would be so bored, as you probably are so I’ll leave it there.

Our two kids—one with the big ears—come often to check on their aging parents and give us instructions. They love us fiercely and we return the favor. The credit  mostly goes to my wife who did so much for them while I was supposedly preaching the gospel.

During this winter of everybody’s discontent we are pretty much at home. We miss the faces and people and talking to them and jokes and just being together. We are still scared of this virus and we have taken one vaccination shot and in a few week we will get the second shot. But we read the Obituary notices in the paper and grieve of those we have lost and all those we do not know.

But looking back on the terrain of these sixty years together we had no idea what would come next. Many times I have wondered but Gayle has said all along: “ It will be OK. You don’t have to worry.”

One of my favorite marriage stories comes from Wallace Stegner, a very fine writer:

“It is something—it can be everything—to have a fellow bird with whom you can sit among the rafters while the drinking and boasting and reciting and fighting go on below; a fellow bird whom you can look after and fine bugs and seeds for; one who will patch your bruises  and straighten your ruffled feathers and mourn over your hurts when you accidentally fly into something you can’t handle´.”

Gayle…I remember.