Anyway, I haven't said so here before, though my friends know the story because I love to tell it. Back in '69, my dad had just come back from Vietnam and they pulled into San Diego. He was originally from Buffalo, but he'd just bought a motorcycle and decided to stay a while. My mom grew up locally in National City and was a fairly typical 19 year old. On a night out in Tijuana, my mom with her girlfriends and my dad with his Navy buds, they met at a nightclub, though I guess they called them discos back then. They were smitten quite quickly and after just four months, my father asked her father for permission to marry my mother. My mom says my grandpa said something like "You want her? You can have her," and then he handed my dad the payment book for the camaro she bought.
I certainly don't know any secrets to love, but they found it and worked at it. For all the good and bad, the ups and downs, there's still something magical about the love that they share for one another. It's set the bar pretty high for me personally because of the example my dad has set on how to treat a woman. One day I hope to find that man who still says, every night and every morning, "I am so lucky to have you."
That is so sweet! Cheers to them!
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