In my very first blog of all time, in a thought process that seems to be all about me finding a literary platform, I find it ironic that this date fall s on my husband's birthday.  So, this blog's for you, birthday boy. I have affectionately nicknamed my husband, Officer Buckle, after the lovable, fictional, children's storybook character.  Anyone who knows my husband finds it easy to agree that their similarities are striking, right down to the  loyal sidekick pup.

The 30th of December is special to more than just Officer Buckle and family.  While perusing Facebook this morning I came across a musician friend wishing his lovely bride a happy 35th wedding anniversary.  Not only did he share his sentiment with us, but he recorded himself singing the same song he sang to her on their wedding day, John Denver's My Sweet Lady.

His voice was just lovely and sung so beautifully, but it made me immediately think about....me.  Would Officer Buckle ever sing to me?  Would he show his affection like this?...and for just a second, I almost felt sorry for myself...for just a second...and then I started laughing.

The opening words Lady, are you crying?  Do the tears belong to me?  Did you think our time together was all gone?  could easily be translated into my life.  I knew my Officer Buckle was never going to sing a sentimental song for me, but I did know what he would do.  Lady (Tam, hold the ladder steady for me while I climb up on the roof), are you crying?  Do the tears belong to me? (Now what's the matter?  Look, I'm going to drop a rope down to you.  Tie it around the hose and I'll pull it up.  When I say 'when,' turn on the faucet.)  Did you think our time together was all gone? (10 more minutes and I'll be finished cleaning the gutters.  What a good husband I am.  No clogs for us.)

You're right, Officer Buckle, what a good husband you are...correction...great husband!  I may not be sung to (though that is very romantic), but what other wife has the pleasure of knowing her gutters are clear of leaves, the log pile is stocked, and a fire roaring round the clock?

And this is what my silver hair has taught me.  The younger me would have moped about, feeling I had somehow been robbed of a romantic husband.  The older and wiser me knows better.

Happy Birthday dear husband of mine.