This letter isn’t really genealogy. It is, however, family history in the true sense of the phrase. And it’s worth preserving.
June 7, 2017
My dearest wonderful Gary,
I am so happy that the silly, superficial sorority girl I once was fell head over heels for that funny, handsome, smart, skinny, black-haired Air Force Academy cadet. I had no idea, of course, how you would turn out, or what sort of wonderful adventures (and trials and tribulations) we would have over the course of a half-century of marriage.
Who knew that you would be a kind, gentle, earth-connected person who talks to doves, whistles at mockingbirds, and reassures undersized fish that they will be OK and back in the water if they will just hold still while you extract a hook? Or a compassionate, empathetic man who weeps every time we visit the Wall; a generous man who gives, as the man in the Bible admonished, to anyone who begs; a patient man who cared for my dying mother in spite of her verbal abuse; and a fiercely principled person who regularly writes intelligent, outraged letters to the ignorant, soulless grifter in the White House who has no regard for human decency or for democratic norms and institutions.
You have also been a loving and supportive husband, father, son and brother. And, on top of all that, you love Paris, London, the theater, history, crossword puzzles, grilled oysters, gardening, genealogy, and fishing. I have no idea how I got so lucky. I do know, however, that I have fifty years of being your partner for which to be grateful beyond measure. I will love you forever.
Happy fiftieth anniversary.