Twenty-five years ago on this day, August 6 of the grand and glorious year 1988, my best friend met me at the front of a church (just as I had predicted four years earlier to another friend he would do). He was in black, I was in white, and that friend to whom I had made my prediction stood on the other side of me with four others wearing peach taffeta. My apologies, girls.
It has been a rip-roaring quarter of a century (sometimes quite literally) and I can think of no other person with whom I would want to share it. My better half, my other self, the pater familias of my world.
Here's to many more years, babe! I love ya!