Always and Forever – Penned by Hand

On a flight from San Diego, California to Hartford, Connecticut I penned this poem.
It was one week before my wedding day.

Always and forever
My love for you will grow
Together or apart
It’s you I love, ya’ know? 

Away from you
My heart grows weary
Apart from you
My joy is low

When you’re near me
My heart lights up
When you’re close
My insides glow

Soon that day will be upon us
Soon our lives will be joined

I cannot picture my life without you
I can’t imagine being so alone
Now we’re together, reunited again
This time forever, forever my friend

Most of our courtship had been spent apart from each other. We developed our relationship through many letters and phone calls. My wife says my letters are what captured her heart.

I believe it was that and the fact I had full employment and benefits. The rest was merely potential and the desire to work with raw materials.

Admit it ladies, every woman who looks at a man as a future mate says to herself, “Hmmm. I can work with that.”


When was the last time you wrote something substantive — a letter, a story, a journal entry, etc. — by hand? Could you ever imagine returning to a pre-keyboard era?

My Biggest Day Preparations

It’s the night before an important event: a big exam, a major presentation, your wedding. How do you calm your nerves in preparation for the big day


18 hours to go. I’m sleeping just fine.

It’s August 1 and the New England summer is at its peak heat today. I’ve left final wedding preparations until this morning. What’s the rush? The wedding isn’t until this evening. Plenty of time to drive into the big city and pick up my tuxedo.

Considering that I was across the continent just a few days ago without a plane ticket or any money to buy one, picking up a fancy rented suit today is minor. I have no other preparation wedding duties. I’m sure the bride and bridesmaids have much to do. Hair, makeup, final clothing adjustments, and pre-wedding pictures are on their agenda.

I get up and have an unremarkable breakfast. It’s so average, I don’t remember it 27 years later. I’m staying with my parents until tonight. This isn’t the house I grew up in. That was sold and demolished in the past two years to make way for a new subdivision while I was away.

I have no emotional attachment to this place. The house is unfamiliar and strange to me. I don’t know it’s creaks and quirks. In the old house, we could prank whoever was in the shower by turning on a hot water faucet elsewhere and it would diminish the flow leaving them suddenly cold. The startled shouts of a shocked brother was always good for a laugh. I don’t know how it works in this place.

My eldest brother is also my best man today. He is driving me to the city for the tux later this morning. The store opens at 10 am. 45 minutes to drive there, 30 minutes in the store, 45 minutes back. That will kill a couple of hours. Only 8 more to go.

“Let’s go bowling ,” I say after we get back from the tuxedo store.

Not because I’m thrilled about bowling. It’s just an idea to kill a few more hours. We drive to the local alley, go in, but can’t bowl. They’re waxing the lanes in the mid-afternoon lull.

“What now?” my brother asks.

“I don’t know. There’s not enough time to see a movie. We’d be late then. How about we go to the arcade and waste some coins?” I reply.

“Whatever you want. It’s your wedding day.” he answers.

We go and spend almost 90 minutes playing most of the games. He looks at his watch and says we should drive home and get dressed for the wedding. Plenty of time.

Why did we agree on an evening wedding?