Twenty-Five

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!