It’s our 37th anniversary today. We were 19 years old when we got married. That’s too young. Yet here we are, still together. Any time you do something for 37 years, people assume you are an expert, but I don’t have any words of wisdom. We’ve made it this long because Robin stuck with me, even when it wasn’t easy. She’s never made it hard for me … having her as my wife is the easiest and best thing that ever happened to me.
We’re not doing anything special this year. I don’t know why … we usually go away for the weekend, but we’ve haven’t been as regular the last few years (last year, for instance, we went to Spain instead). We’re going to Chez Panisse next Monday night, but tonight, for all I know, we’ll end up watching Lost. It’s not really all that odd … it’s not like we’ve fallen out of love. But I think people expect us to gush … I’ve been known to do so on occasion … and maybe it’s not a year for gushing. Maybe it’s like this: