December 29, 2004
40th

Exciting.  40 years ago Monday, December 27^th, 1964 Cleveland’s Memorial Stadium was the site of an incredibly exciting NFL championship game.  Back before the Super Bowl, it was a time in our nation’s football history when the NFL titlist was thought to be king of the hill.  The Browns of Cleveland were deadlocked in a scoreless tie with the Johnny Unitas led Baltimore Colts.  Finally in the 2^nd half Cleveland quarterback Dr. Frank Ryan hit wideout Gary Collins with three touchdown passes as the Browns upset the Colts 27-0.  Luckily the game was decided midway through the second half.  Had it been in doubt until the final seconds I might have been late for my wedding. 

Championship football aside, never was a man more ready to be married.  I had pursued this woman for five years.  Finally, against her better judgment, Jan agreed to become my wife.  As is usually the case when a wedding takes place between Christmas and New Year’s at least one, of the participant’s is a teacher on Christmas break.   Jan was a speech therapist in the Burlington, Iowa school system and once she agreed to become a Mrs. this kid was much too impatient to wait until spring for a wedding.  

Not that the memory recalls many specifics of that Sunday forty years ago.  It was a cold, gray day when we said our vows in Boone, Iowa’s 1^st Methodist Church.  After the ceremony it was reception time, complete with wedding cake, cookies and coffee, an event that took place in Pilgrim Hall, aka the church basement.  My radiant bride was the perfect celebrant strolling from table to table to greet guests, many of whom had traveled long distances on icy roads to attend.  I tagged along at her side, smiling on cue, but all my thoughts were focused on the honeymoon not wedding guests.  Small talk was the last thing on my mind.  I wanted to be heading down the road toward Des Moines airport and flying south, away from the Mid-Western winter to the fun and frolic awaiting in the surf and sunshine of Nassau, Bahamas and the long awaited, oh how long I had waited, honeymoon.  

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Jan said it was three hours, we left the reception and drove through the snow to Des Moines.  The plane lifted off on schedule and wonder of wonders our connections at O’Hare were glitch free.  Landing in Nassau the hotel shuttle met the plane and whisked us off to our honeymoon suite.  All my worrying about the winter travel problems a honeymooning couple could encounter proved to be waste of effort.  This much anticipated first trip with my wife was actually living up to the hotel brochure’s promise of a “ memory filled event of a lifetime.” 

Until we reached the front desk. “We’re slightly overbooked,” said the desk clerk, “but just for you two we have a sea-side cabana.” Impressive right?  Even my bad breaks were turning out to be a stroke of luck.  Mentally patting myself on the back we followed the bellman to our “fabulous” cabana.  With the surf crashing against the nearby rocks the bellman opened the door to our honeymoon hideaway to reveal a postage stamp sized room featuring bunk beds.    

“And will there be anything else?” queried the bellman awaiting his tip.  “Something that doesn’t have bunk beds,” I replied.

“Sorry, that’s not possible,” was the response.  “Much like a tip,” I huffed.

And to this day I remain the only person I’ve known whose honeymoon featured bunk beds. 

Two nights ago Jan and I, plus our daughters and their husbands, gathered at a Denver restaurant to celebrate 40 years of marriage.  Standing in the bar awaiting our table one of the offspring mentioned the occasion to a patron.  “Hey”, he asked, “What’s the secret of a long marriage?  I looked him in the eye and in my best Maxwell Smart voice replied, “Would you believe bunk beds on the honeymoon?”