September 12, 1969 – I get married

It was September 12^th 1969 and The Rolling Stones were wailing about Honky Tonk Women, when I walked down the aisle at age 19 to get married. It would be a 10-year “practice” marriage for me to a lovely woman for whom I still only wish the best of life.

How in the world we end up at such ages doing such things is beyond me. However, we were both responsible people in need. We knew we could not afford children so we practiced birth control. We didn’t get ourselves in debt. We shopped for specials and ate lots of canned pasta and biscuits. In those days, you could buy 10 cans of cheap spaghetti for a dollar.

Initially, we lived above the barber shop across the street from the administration building at Murray State University. It was an efficiency where you stepped from the bed literally into a shower. The living room was large enough for a sofa, a recliner a small four seat table, a book shelf and a stereo system that I had inherited from my parents.

The kitchen was large enough for two people to work around each other and fix a meal of canned spaghetti and 5 cent a can of five biscuits. The shelf in the living/dining room had a bottle of brandy. The closet was large enough for all the clothes we had combined and that was not many. I owned a single pair of Sunday shoes and a pair of old cowboy boots and a new set of jump boots.

We were young, passionate and we thought the path forward would be one we would both stay on for our lives. I would go to school 6-8 hours daily and then work for Mr. Joe Tom Erwin, the Sports Information Director and several other “part-time” jobs and my wife at the time was a loyal and dedicated secretary to the Director of Public Information.

Working together we got along just fine. I maintained a 3.49 average and was taking as many courses as I could and eventually would finish a 4-year degree in 3-years. Our neighbors, all of them were young couples like us. I remember Roy and Gloria next door. She was in school to become a teacher and he drove back and forth daily to work in the coal mines in Hopkins County. They owned a really cool Dodge Charger, truly a “muscle car” in those days.

Down the street, a block or so, was the Crazy Horse Billiard parlor where I would sneak off to now and then and shoot a game of pool. “The Hut” where you could still get a cup of Joe for 20 cents was just down past the pool hall and the library was across the street.

We were young and in “love” and like so many of people we were looking for ourselves in those days and we were optimistic that we would eventually find ourselves but perhaps not as we expected.

At Christmas in 1969, we snuck out to a farm in the county and cut down a Christmas tree like thieves in the night. I have asked for repentance on that act but it was fun! It was a small tree just large enough to set on top of the stereo, a feature of every place I have ever lived because of my love of music. We played Burl Ives, Bing Crosby and Gene Autry Christmas records as we decorated the tree with popcorn and a few ornaments my Mother gave us.

At the end of December, 1969 I was listening to Dianna Ross singing Some Day We Will Be Together and wondering what life was to bring. We were young and in “love.”