. . . I almost forgot it was our anniversary. But Donna reminded me, and I remembered. Being reminded counts as remembering, right? It’s not like she had to tell me!
We were married at the Rathaus in Wiesbaden, Germany, on December 2nd, 1965. It was a civil ceremony, conducted in German and English. My parents were there, and three of my sisters. After the ceremony, when Donna and I emerged onto the street, a band of German schoolkids walking by circled around us and sang a little song. It was a beautifully sunny day, a precious rarity in Wiesbaden.
Donna and I lived in a small rented apartment in Wiesbaden-Bierstadt. A renovated chicken coop, actually, but we had our own bathroom, a small kitchen, and a bedroom/living room. I worked at the Wiesbaden Air Base exchange as a store clerk, and later on as a truck driver delivering goods to other exchanges in Germany. Donna, after our son Gregory was born in March 1966, also worked for the US military exchange system as a bookkeeper. We rode buses to and from work. My folks helped us by having us over for one or two dinners a week, and sometimes loaning us a car for weekend trips. I took night classes on base and earned a few college credits. Our combined hourly income was less than two-and-a-half bucks, but in two years we saved enough money to hop an Iceland Air flight back to the East Coast, buy a used car, drive to Sacramento, find new jobs, and set up housekeeping there.
Things we’d consider enormous obstacles today seemed like everyday life 43 years ago. When we catch ourselves worrying about our own kids, we try to remind ourselves that we were once a couple of clueless 19-year-olds. It’s hard to remember that most of the time.
I’m so happy we’ve made it this far. Happy anniversary, Donna!