A nervous man approaches the altar…

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Eleven years ago today, I nervously introduced myself to the lady in charge of the church: “Hi, I’m Chris, I’m the bride.” Back in those days before Obergefell v. Hodges, that just wasn’t acceptable in Ohio.

Eleven years ago tomorrow, we climbed into a dew-soaked Miata (I’d left the top down in the hotel parking lot for some reason) and headed East toward Maine, a vacation spot we have come to love. Even though Heather won’t eat lobster.

Those eighteen hours in a Miata are symbolic of our relationship: A little uncomfortable at times when the roads are rough or the skies are rainy, but when the top goes down and the roads are clear, there is nothing more glorious than the love we have for one another. Certainly there have been moments that remind us of the Pennsylvania Turnpike, but I have to believe we are on US 1 north of Boston by now.

If only the Miata had four seats instead of two, we could be cruising top-down as a family now.

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photos courtesy R.Middendorf Media. Awful scans of said photos courtesy my Canon scanner, which doesn’t like Rodney’s Nikon cameras.

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