Today is Friday the 13th, purported to be unlucky day for the superstitious types out there. Me? I am certainly superstitious; no doubt about that. But this day and this weekend – like every other day and every other weekend -- I feel like the luckiest man around. On July 14, my wife Heidi and I celebrate our 17th anniversary. It takes a truly special woman to stick with a schmoe like me for all these years, and I’m all the better for it. She remains my best friend and the love of my life.
And, for those wondering: No, I am not trying to get “brownie
points” with this post. Heidi is vaguely aware that I do this blog, and she
rarely if ever checks it.
As I type this on my back porch, sweat sticks to my back. It
is really hot and humid. Just like that Friday afternoon in 1995, when we
exchanged vows at the Marist Chapel. Seems like yesterday. It really does.
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