It was thirty-eight years ago this past October 8th that Judy and I exchanged vows. On October 8th, 1983, we promised to love, honor, cherish, and obey and, so far, we have managed to keep those vows as best we could.
Since that time, thirty-eight years ago, Judy and I have banned the use and mention of the “A” word for the day of our marriage and also the use and celebration of “V” day every February 14th.
It was the first V Day after our marriage day. I had made reservations at a rustic, but romantic, spot some twenty miles or so, from our small, rented house on a farm, just outside of Sykesville Pa. I had reserved a time slot and a prime rib dinner for two. There was to be a band there also and a night of dinner and dancing along with a drink or two sounded like the thing to do.
We had little extra money to spend on such extravagates in those days, but it was our first V Day since our marriage just four months previous and I was determined to make it a nice one for my new bride.
We arrived at the “lodge” dressed in our best and we were seated immediately. The waitress came promptly and took our drink order and after returning with them, she asked about our dinner. We told her we had reserved the prime rib and she asked how we would like them prepared. She then took the order to the kitchen and returned once more with salads and bread. She then explained that since it was V Day our dinners may take a little more time as they were very busy. I told her that would be fine, and I understood since I had worked in several food service establishments in my teens. That’s when things went downhill.
One and a half hours later, the owner/manager, dressed in god-awful pink colored sweatpants and matching hoodie accessorized with fur lined and unzipped boots, came around to our table and informed us that they had run out of the prime rib and if we wanted to change our order it would be a longer wait. “But I had reserved the order!” I protested. It was in vain. That was the way it was and so Judy and I paid for what we had consumed and left.
V day be damned! It was getting late, and we were hungry. We took a different way home and it was getting close to midnight when we ended up in a pizza shop, near closing time, in the nearby town of Brookville Pa.
There were several other instances of romantic folly over the next several attempts at a V Day celebration. So, it was mutually agreed upon by both Judy and I forgo any further celebrations of V Day.
Then there is the annual “A” day….
This annual day too has become a day whose name shall not be spoken. A day that has been tarnished by broken reservations due to, the measles, the dog being sick, a freezing rainstorm and other maladies and misfortunes.
But perhaps the saddest time, and the straw that broke the camel’s back for this day, was our twentieth time of the A Day.
We were bound and determined to make this A Day special. I borrowed money and booked a flight to Las Vegas along with a stay at the Excalibur Hotel. My Mom had been in a nursing home and was not doing well. We had consulted with my siblings if it might not be in the best interest to cancel our A Day trip. It was a unanimous decision that we go and enjoy ourselves.
October 7th, 2003, was our first trip to Vegas and as we landed and disembarked from the plane, we were overwhelmed by all that is Vegas. The lights, the noise, the hotels, and of course, “The Strip”.
We checked into our hotel and went to our room. Later, we enjoyed a dinner theater at the Excalibur and spent the rest of the evening flushing money down the hotels chiming and twinkling toilets.
It was about five a.m. the next morning when we were awakened by the phone. I knew what it was about when Judy’s sister asked to talk to Judy. My Mother had passed away during the night.
After much persuasion, we got an emergency flight home and landed in Cleveland Ohio late in the afternoon on the eighth of October. Shortly before the Pennsylvania border we pulled into a rest stop to fill up the car and get a bite to eat. Now, anyone who’s ever eaten at one of the rest stop restaurants along an interstate highway knows that the food at such places can be of dubious quality and taste and it was there that I said to Judy for the last time “Happy Anniversary” while we chocked down our flame broiled burger.
But there is one tradition that I started on our first A Day that I continue.
The first A Day I sent Judy one rose. The next year two roses. The next year three. And so on and so on and so on. It’s a tradition I really didn’t think through.
Long Lonesome Highway 