Some of you have mentioned seeing our wedding picture in the paper a week or so ago. I have appreciated the congratulations we've received for our 40th wedding anniversary both in person and with the many cards we've gotten.
Our children are great kids. They've put a lot of time and effort into the planning and preparing of a big "surprise" party they're throwing for us this next weekend. (I'll have to fill you in on surprise things in the Goff family one of these days!) While I'm honored and excited about the celebration, I must admit I'm a little apprehensive about what's going to go down Saturday night.
Rochelle and Sharla have been holed up at Rochelle's house for a week sitting in front of the computer, searching through my box of "old" pictures and downloading music from back in the day. They keep asking what songs we liked at different stages of our life together.
I just know they're planning to do something at the party that will either surprise us and make us cry, or embarrass us in front of our friends and extended family –– you know, the people we want to make an "impression" on –– the people you don't really want to know you pick your nose in private.
Forty years is a long time, you know it? I've had a few people say–– when they saw our wedding picture –– they knew right away it was us –– that we hadn't changed that much.
Now, let's get real! We were 18-years-old in those pictures. We were young. We were not even wet behind the ears –– as my father would have said. We had big plans for our life together. We had no idea we were going to have eight children and encounter the stress that goes along with raising a family.
Sorry to digress, but have I ever mentioned that Roger asked me on our WEDDING NIGHT what I thought about having kids? Seriously, don't you think there might have been a more appropriate time to discuss a subject so important? I told him I'd like to have a couple of children in a few years. He said he wanted six right away. Looks like we added things together and came up with a plan!
I want to digress yet again. I'd like to say that I would not do anything differently with my life. Yes, we were young and hadn't thought what our life together would turn out like, but we had it in our minds that whatever life threw at us, we could get through as long as we did it together. I think the last 40 years have pretty much proven that.
One thing that I've been doing to prepare for the big celebration Saturday is listen to the ’60s channel on Sirius Radio. I've been driving Steven's new truck the past couple of weeks because the old red Jeep needs to go in the shop. The truck has Sirius Radio, which has been a really fun experience for me –– so many choices –– so little time.
So, as I'm cruising along to and from work, to the baseball diamond, to the grocery store or wherever, I'm generally singing at the top of my lungs to songs from days gone by.
As I do so, I can almost imagine cruising up and down Main Street in Burlington Junction, sitting in the middle of the front seat of that blue '55 Chevy, singing along to our favorite tunes –– just two young kids out to have a good time.
Songs like "I Think We're Alone Now" or "Baby I Need Your Lovin" create quite a visual image from days gone by. But when "For What It's Worth" comes on –– now that really gets to me. That's the first slow song Roger and I ever danced to. We had no idea what the words were and that it, in fact, was a war protest song. We just snuggled close and moved to the music. (When the Rumbles were playing at the old Armory building in Maryville.)
Oh, to be young and in love again! I guess that's why I listen to the ’60s tunes; makes me remember feeling young. It looks to me like it would put me in a deep depression instead.
There was one point of contention between Roger and I as we cruised around listening to the radio. Roger loved the OLD time country music. I'm talking the old honky tonk, bluegrass stuff. I didn't. I was rock and roll all the way –– after all, who could dance to that Hillbilly stuff? I had a hard time tolerating the whangy voices of some of the older artists. Roger never did get the message from most of the newer songs.
So, one button on the radio was set to WHB –– my station. The rest were set to whatever stations played the oldest, most annoyingly twangy music possible. As we drove along listening to some of the greatest music of all times on "wonderfulla, wonderfulla, W H aBa," all of a sudden the music changed. There, coming out of the speakers, was that hideous, twangy, squeaky, downtown country music.
With just a punch of a button, Roger could change the entire mood of the night. Now why would a guy want to do something like that when everything was going so well?
All I can say is –– I certainly hope nobody lets Roger near the stereo system at the party!
