Thanksgiving is coming.  It is the one day in the year that all of my people get together--and find out who is in the family.  Last time I counted, there were 46 or 47 of them.  Little did Ken and I know what was in the future when we got married.  I passed by a picture of us taken at our wedding the other day and thought, “Girl, (18 years old and laughing) you have no idea what it coming in the next 57 years.

We were cutting the wedding cake with his sword, his hand is over mine.  It is a priceless picture.  And this year would have been our 65th year if Ken was still with me.  

I moved to California four times, Virginia twice, Oklahoma every time he went overseas--which was a regular occurrence. South  Carolina, Pensacola Florida.  He would come home and get to be the good guy, spoil the kids and leave again.  

When he retired, he had some sort of idea that he was in charge.  I handed him the check book and said, “Go for it.”  He gave it all back in two months and said, “I don’t know how you did it all.”  Truth is, I don’t know either.  I guess we just both did what we had to do and got it done.  The country owes him a debt of gratitude.  But I always think that when they ask veterans  to stand on November 11 in our church, they ought to ask their children to stand as well.  They also served.