October 28 marks 59 years of marriage for us. 59 years; that’s a lifetime. But it has gone by as fast as small-town gossip travels.
We met 60 years ago at the service station where he worked after school and my daddy ran the mechanic shop in the back. We were both 16 years old. It was instant attraction on my part, but he was so shy he wouldn’t bite a biscuit. But of course, being the savvy 16-year-old I was, I took it upon myself to activate this attraction. Our first date was at the Strand Theatre and I could not tell you the name of the movie if my life depended on it. But I do remember he walked me to my door that night.
We did all the teenage things that teens did back in the sixties. We hung out at the Gateway, went to the drive-in movies, and rode around and around the square.
I wore his class ring; he wore my ring on a chain. We could only date on Friday and Saturday nights and my curfew was at 10 p.m. My mama said that all you could do after 10 was get in trouble.
After dating for about 18 months, we decided we were so in love we wanted to get married. Did I ask my mama, Oh NO! We decided to elope. I had friends that said they had gone somewhere over in Alabama and gotten married underage. All you needed was a paper saying you had taken a blood test. So, we went to Carthage on the very day James Meredith entered Ole Miss, October 1, 1962.
With blood test proof in our hands, we told my parents we were going to the state fair in Jackson and spend the night with my aunt. We got to the first town we had been told about and walked up to the Circuit Clerk, and he asked for our driver’s license or some proof of age. OK, we gave him the proof of blood test which stated our age at eighteen. He needed driver’s license or birth certificates. We explained how we forgot them. Then he asked for witnesses and my young fiancé said, “We let them off down the road a piece.”
The judge looked at us and said, “When you are actually 18, come back and it will be my pleasure to marry you.”
We traveled back to Mississippi, went to Jackson and the state fair, and stayed overnight with my aunt. We talked her into calling my mother and telling her we wanted to marry. And, I might add, it had to be within the next 30 days because we would have to take another blood test, and I had fainted from the first one.
We married on October 28, 1962, and I finished my senior year of high school as a married woman. Neither of us have ever regretted our actions 59 years ago as we have always had a great “elopement” story to tell, and I still have that same attraction to him that I had so many years ago.
I just love bread, and this is such an easy one to make. Of course, you have to get permission to use one of your husband’s beers.
Beer Bread
1 can of warm beer
3 cups of flour, (I use self-rising)
¼ cup of sugar
Mix all together in a large bowl, pour into a loaf pan and bake at 350 degrees for 40-60 minutes. You do not taste the beer in the finished loaf.
