How thoughtless of me not to write anything (other than “tits”) about our 20th anniversary. Blame it on my post-operative state, although I managed to get a post out that day. Say I am just respecting the privacy of my oh-so-private partner, but we certainly do not hide our relationship any more. Blame society for not allowing us to be legally married in our country – 6 states do not count, sorry – and prevent us from fully celebrating our commitment and the joining of our families. (We have a mixed marriage – she is a Yankee; I am a Texan.) Blame me for not being as bold, as brave as I think that I am for not blogging about our 20-years of marriage-like relationship. For not writing about the weekend hike we took in 1991 in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, staying at Greenleaf hut, and early the next morning walking to an overlook called “Eagle’s Nest”. Fog snaked below us across the craggy ridgeline. The glorious quilt of fall colors in Franconia Notch that we had hiked through the day before was barely visible below. The sky was light blue, totally clear. We stood just at tree line where only stunted, deformed vegetation, called Krummholz, grows to the height of the snow pack. In a circle of candles and rocks, we shared our vows then each spoke a personal commitment of love. I cried. Sue laughed. We are still laughing and crying.
“Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if even death separates you and me.” Ruth 1:16-17 (What can I say, I grew up the daughter of a minister, and Ruth’s words to Naomi always haunted me. Yes, I used this in my part of our ceremony.)