Thirty years ago I insisted, no, I demanded, that my girlfriend and I get married in a Western setting. "Can't we get married at the Polanski Club? It's in the West," a certain fiance reasoned. "Absolutely not," I countered. I want it to be true West." So, on July 28, 1979, we were married at Pioneer Living History Museum. Here is a photo from that day:
Looking back, our first official fight took place in New Mexico as we drove through the Hondo Valley. This was before we were married, but thinking about it. The same fiance said, "Why does everything have to be Western with you?" I made my case. She wasn't buying it. We fought and I drove. I remember driving through a great little village as we argued. Later, when I got home, I looked it up on a map. Yikes! I had driven through Lincoln, New Mexico and didn't even stop. This was in 1978 when I didn't know better. It has never happened again.
For our thirtieth wedding anniversary I told Kathy she could pick anywhere east she wanted to go and I would not protest.
It is a ten hour flight to Buenos Aires. We leave tomorrow.
"Just because everything is different doesn't mean anything has changed. "