Why did we wait so long?
Bob's bairn, The Green Miles, told his dorm mates, with a snort, 'they wanted to be sure.' You know, not make an impulsive, hasty choice and all.
Eh, we always knew we were mated for life, like swans, gibbons or, possibly, black vultures. What did we need with some official scrap of paper that just said what we already knew?
I was 27 and TAB 44 when we first hooked up. It wasn't until the following year that I put him though the Meet My Crazy Parents hoop (nota bene, when you're in your teens and 20s, parents are nuts. They become wise and sane about the time we hit 30).
My parents picked us up and, as we settled into the back seat of their Queen Mary-ish, ten year old, Bondo covered blue Chevy, Daddy sternly asked TAB 'what are your intentions with my daughter?' I would have died on the spot had that been an option.
I knew there'd be some uncomfortableness -- TAB's just six years younger than my father. The Old Man was afraid that this big adult would take advantage of his baby girl. Heh, poor TAB was in more danger of that than Daddy's Little Girl.
How did my beloved Honey Pie respond?
He went full metal Eddie Haskell on my father. He replied 'Gee, golly Mister Maderer -- my intentions are strictly dishonorable, sir!' There was a moment of stunned silence and then Pop broke out in great gusts of appreciative laughter.
Over lunch at an awesome little Kenmore Square dive, TAB put Daddy completely at ease. How? By asking him if he was a Red Sox fan. Yes indeedy! They were a conversational house on fire as they went through all their fave players starting with the 1946 line up.
Mother and I made with the chit chat while my Knight In Hipster Armor and The Not-As-Old-As-He-Was-An-Hour-Ago Man replayed some of the Greatest Games EVAH from before I was born.
Yeah, I felt a teensy bit oogie.
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