An anniversary of some import passed quietly earlier this week here at the northern end of southern nowhere and the Colonel didn't get in trouble with the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda for not remembering it.
Two trips around Sol ago, on March 31st of 2007 to be exact, the Colonel and Miss Brenda spent the first evening on the property that had existed in our life dreams since we were, ahem, teenagers in love. As sappy as it may seem to a world that no longer seems to believe in life-long love and commitment, I have been in love with my best friend since I was a pimply-faced, squeaky-voiced adolescent. Amazingly, the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda has returned the favor, with interest, for the same almost four decades since our first date. Two or three of you reading this, may even remember, as participants in what can only be described as a "gang date," (our whole, mostly good, gang of church youth mostly paired off and attended a Saturday matinee of that tender love story: "Lawrence of Arabia") that inaugural episode of the implausibly long running "Ed and Brenda Show," and recall the great improbability that I would ever have a second date with the better-looking half of the Cannon twins.
But, against odds longer than that of my Rebels winning this year's National Championship, we endured. And, as we endeavored to endure in those early years, we dreamed. By the time we married, nearly five years after the first date, we had our lives together dream-planned out. We dream-planned our family--two boys and a girl. Mission accomplished. Check. We dream-planned my career as a Marine. Mission accomplished. Check. We dream-planned our retirement place in the country.
Living that dream. God is good.
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