This Day in October

Haiku My Heart Friday

October 8, 2010

The inspiration for writing Haiku on Friday comes from my friend Rebecca. You can experience more beautiful photos and haiku by visiting her site, recuerda mi corazon

Years are the markers

Love is a piece of my heart

Anniversary

This is my sweetheart in high school. Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. Thirty Nine years. I know, I know, this is an odd numbered year. It's not one of those well rounded numbers. Most folks don't get invited to their high school reunions or celebrate the odd numbered years of anything, but we do mark it in our minds and mention it. Besides, no one really knows if any of us will be around next year for the even numbered big Four Oh! In this case, this one will be mentioned out loud today. I did write some haiku, but there is no way any haiku of any length or number of syllables could tell you the real story of the dedication this woman has given to her family and to me over the years.

We met on January 27, 1971. She was seventeen and still in high school, due to graduate in June. We were married on October 9, 1971. We didn't date for so very long, but she did turn eighteen if that's what you were wondering. A lot of water has flowed under that bridge, and it still flows today, as strong as ever.

Let there be no mistake. As my friend Christopher asks of me often, "Am I the only man that comes to your site?", I admit I have many blogger pals that are women, but I sleep in my own bed at home every night with my wife. It is a fact that most of the bloggers that come here and comment are women, and most of them are married too. 

It is the artform and the writing, the photos and prose, sharing of the spirit, uplifting inspiration, letting each other know we are beautiful, wanted, needed, loved and the expressions from our hearts for a better world, a peaceful world, that bind us, not our gender.

 I am beholden to only one and we share a date in our narrow slice of history tomorrow.

Our wedding day, October 9, 1971

Barb's mom and dad didn't believe us at first when we told them we wanted to get married. Barb had just turned 18. I had returned from the American war in Vietnam a year prior. I was 22. When the parents didn't listen, we went ahead and made plans to run off and get married. When her dad realized that we were serious, he took me to the local neighborhood tavern and sat me down at the bar and asked me, as was some tradition in some time and place, "Why do you want to marry my daughter?"


My answer was the same as if you asked me today, "I love her." We went on to drink a couple of beers and salute the accepted answer with a shot or two of brandy, Korbel's to be exact. Ed insisted on having a big wedding. This was his only daughter and he wasn't going to give her away without a party. We only had a couple of months to plan, but it was a traditional Catholic Church wedding with a large reception. Eddie and Lois, Barb's Mom, invited everyone they knew. He got a hall called the Mangam Chateau and had a free and open bar from start to finish. At midnight, the establishment told Ed the bar would be closing, Ed took out his checkbook and wrote a check to keep the bar open another two hours. We partied on well into the night.

A time later, the check was returned in the monthly statement and Ed put the cancelled check in a frame and hung it over his bar, which was at home, in the basement rumpus room, bragging to everyone that it was his largest ever bar tab. Recently, when Barb's brother met us at Lambeau, he brought her a box of pictures and mementos. Among them was the now famous Bar Tab Check:

Remember now, this was 1971 dollars!

I leave you with a few photos I have found to be great captures of the love of my life. My own personal savior from the ravages of war, the one who guides me and keeps my heart at peace. My spousal unit, my wife, my friend, my lover, my soul mate, Mother of my children and perfect Grand Mother. I refer to her as Mrs. Spadoman, but her name is Barbara. We are one.

8th grade, Catholic school, complete with bolero

Working for peace on the streets of Ashland Wisconsin

Enjoying a Brat at Miller Park at a Brewers game

Peace to all