Fifty years is a long time to be married, yet I remember the second night of our honeymoon as if it was yesterday. We made it to Denver, Colo., and found a Best Western motel, which was splurging considering neither one of us had a job.
We decided to go to a movie, and I used a payphone in the lobby to call my mom and let her know where we were. She was upset with me, because my uncle, who hadn’t been invited to the wedding, was upset with her. I fought tears until we got back to the motel. There, I threw myself onto the bed and started sobbing.