My wife and I are inspirations.

We inspired at least one young man. How do I know that? He told us so this afternoon.

Part of our daily constitutional, weather permitting, involves us walking with Toby the Puppy through our Princeton, Texas, neighborhood. The weather allowed it today, so off we trekked.

We turned the corner and started walking north. A young man drove up in his pickup. He stopped his truck and said the following: “You inspire me.”

I responded: “Oh, really? How’s that?” The gentleman said he enjoys seeing us walking through the ‘hood “holding hands.” 

We both chuckled. The young man said he has been married for 10 years and he hopes that “when I get to be your age that we’re still holding hands.”

I lifted my right hand that was clasping my wife’s left hand and told him, “Well, you know, this is part of our formula” for a lengthy marriage. We told him we’ve been married for 48 years.

He shook his head … I am presuming because he is impressed that we’ve been together for that length of time.

We wished him well; he returned the same to us.

I love it when we can inspire someone with such a simple gesture. Who’da thunk it?

I am not inclined to publish blog posts such as what I am about to post today, but given that I note that High Plains Blogger includes “life experience” among its topics, I thought I would share this experience with you.

It goes like this.

I had just returned from the Army the previous summer of 1970. I enrolled in college, wanting to restart the civilian life that was interrupted by induction into the military two years earlier, and which included a tour in Vietnam.

One day I was sitting in the student union, taking a break from my studies. Then I saw this girl. I decided in that moment that I wanted to meet this young woman. As luck would have it, that opportunity presented itself in short order.

We found ourselves sitting at a table with a mutual acquaintance. He amused us both. We made eye contact, winking and chuckling at the stories this fellow was telling.

I introduced myself. She did as well. We liked each other right away.

We dated for a time. Our relationship matured and developed rapidly. It evolved quickly into a loving relationship. Then we decided to get married. The marriage occurred on Sept. 4, 1971 in a small Presbyterian Church in southeast Portland, Ore.

The preacher who married us told us the ceremony would take 22 minutes. It was — dare I say it — the quickest 22 minutes of my life. 

Just like that, we were husband and wife. Our sons would come along soon.

It has been the greatest ride imaginable. Neither of us could have imagined the places we would see, the things we would do, the path our combined life would take.

It all happened 48 years ago.

What is the life experience I learned? I tell young men a simple fact, which is that you shouldn’t go looking for the girl of your dreams. She will appear when you least expect it.

I am living, breathing proof of that fundamental truth.

Happy anniversary, Kathy Anne.