December 31, 1972, I married this gorgeous, good man.

There he is, my husband-to-be, not too many minutes before we got married.


We wrote our own vows. I lost the 3x5 cards in a fire several years ago. Mostly I remember how proud we felt that we'd found each other, totally amazed in fact because I started out in Mississippi, ended up in Kansas City, and we came across each other at the Foolkiller Theater downtown where we acted in a play together, a play entitled "Transcenmental Hippiedations." We said from the heart that we would always be there for each other. Oh, before I forget, look at his beautiful hair! I did so love that man's thick, lustrous hair. Our best man is one of LeRoy's best friends, Ronnie. And my dress is not black, it's a deep pine green velour. I picked it to match the colors of the leaves in my bouquet of pyrethrum daises.


The photo was too wide for the scanner to get it all, or at the least I didn't understand how to make the scanner get it all. Who knows? Anyway I couldn't leave out my wonderful matron of honor, Marsha.


Here we are, embarking together on our married lives that began 38 years ago today at 2:30 p.m., Kansas City time. I had gone to the library and checked out a book about weddings. In it I read that getting married on the up-swing of the clock hand, from the half hour up to the hour, meant good luck.

We had that good luck until 1983 for 10 years, three months and 14 days before LeRoy died. Our sons were seven and four. A different kind of good luck has been with us ever since. We know we'll all be together again, someday.