Ben and I are celebrating our 15 year anniversary today. Kind of. In reality? I need to finish planting our garden, put clean clothes away and whoop a clean on this dirty farm house. After school the kids will have homework and maybe ball practice. Ben has to work late, then has a bluegrass gig. Our plans for a romantic steak dinner for two with our traditional white cake and fresh strawberries (just like our wedding cake) will have to wait. A gal could just get mad, but I’m choosing to look at it differently. We’ve come a long way, the two of us.

Shortly after we met we decided we just couldn’t live without each other and had to get married, but waited for three months to tell our parents. MiMi, Ben’s mom, said “Oh-my-God, Ben, you can’t get married!…Oh congratulations! *hugs*…I need a cigarette!” (This outburst is still simply hilarious to me.) Fifteen minutes after my dad met Ben he said, “Hell, his ears ain’t but that big *holding up his encircled fingers*…no bigger than a quarter.” But agreed later to let Ben marry me anyway after he asked, regardless of his ear size. Truth was, Dad probably needed a cigarette too.

Four months later he gave his only daughter away in a tiny Marine Corps chapel in Arlington Cemetery,Virgina. The cherry blossoms were still in bloom and when the sun hit them that day it made the air smell great. I was in a homemade wedding dress and dad in a hand-me-down suit.  Mom read from our old family Bible, and the lady I nannied for stood up with me. The flowers I held were white lilies tied with a piece of fraying fabric from my dress and there was a sprig of baby’s breath in my hair. Ben was in his dress blues. *sigh* Just the thought of it still makes my heart leap. Pictures were snap shots taken by friends and Tim, our best man, another Marine, saluted me with his sword. I felt rich, like a queen, even though my chariot was an old 1987 blue and white Chevy pick-up (with dents in each door and really loud pipes) and our wedding jewels weren’t jewels at all, just plain white-gold bands–paid for from tips I stashed while working at a steakhouse. It was simple, just like our love.

A lot can happen in fifteen years. That song, Remember When by Alan Jackson pretty well sums it up.

I guess when you marry young you’re not quite set in your ways and instead of trying to fit two stoic pieces into the marriage puzzle, young folks can be a little more shape-able. We have became one. A one that is still constantly changing, hopefully for the better, but at least together. Add to that weird mix a couple of boys, a couple of cats, an old farmhouse with issues, some home cooked meals, one homemade G string, some bluegrass music and here we are.

I don’t have any words of wisdom for staying together except read this book. I’ve learned that real love is fragile but resilient. It’s get-your-hands-dirty, messy. It’s gray not black and white. It’s happy and heartbreaking–a true paradox and the closest thing I’ll find to heaven this side of eternity. When I think of Ben, I think of riches untold, from talent to character. I’m sure lots of which I have yet to see in him or discover. It’s been quite a journey, one that I wouldn’t want to be on with anyone else.

There is nothing left to say except…Happy Anniversary, Darlin’, now hand me that pile of laundry…

Simply,

Sis

Music at our house is a big deal. Ben has played and sang to our kids since before they were born. So it’s only logical that they love music and feel compelled to play. We are delighted by this and try to keep all sorts of instruments around for the kids to experiment on. Dub-ya enjoyed playing the mandolin until he discovered Guitar Hero, then he made the announcement at 8 years old, he won’t be playing bluegrass.

“I like bluegrass music, Mom, but just want to play rock-n-roll.”

Rock on, dude. You should play want makes you happy, whatever the genre.

“What’s genre?”

Kind or type.

“Oh, I wish Dad could play rock and roll.”

You don’t think he can?

“No.”

Have a seat.

“Why?”

I want to show you something.

Ben put down his Banjo long enough to get out a dusty amplifier and his old Fender Telecaster. Dub-ya was quiet then said.

(Giggling) “He has an electric guitar?”

Two of them.

“Whoa. That is so cool. I’ve never seen them.”

The next thing we heard was “Smoke On The Water” Dunt, dunt, DUN. Dunt, dunt, DA-DUN!

W was looking a little pale and holding his stomach. “That was the coolest thing I ever heard. I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Ben played La Grange, Sweet Home Alabama and more. W sat shocked, staring and mentally moving his Dad up his cool list.

“Dad, can you teach me Barracuda?”

“Sure, Buddy, it’s real easy.”

“I’m gonna have a band, just like you. But, my band will be called ‘The GHOST Killers.’ We’ll have skull and cross bones tattoos and our costume will be black of course, and red for the blood, you know. Can I get a tattoo tomorrow, Mom?”

No. Maybe after your first, gig, though. (Not a chance in hell, but maybe.)

“Okay.”

I’ve got to go plan…

I love how music, brings us together.

Sis