This Friday, Sept. 11, is my wedding anniversary. Most people understandably think of the date as 9/11, but I refuse to let terrorists ruin the most joyous day of my life. I choose love over hate every time, and it is a conscious choice.
Of course, I remember vividly the day when buildings I knew collapsed as if in some fantasy movie. My father, two children, nephew, cousin and many friends were in New York City when all hell broke lose. I will never forget crossing the George Washington Bridge and seeing smoke drift skyward where the magnificent buildings had stood proudly only hours before.
But what I prefer to recall about Sept. 11 is my wedding, 33 years ago to the love of my life. All who know Joan understand what a lucky guy I am. I hit the jackpot. Everybody at our wedding that day, including my parents, knew I had hit the daily double.
When the person performing the ceremony asked if anybody objected, you could sense the self-control exercised by all the assembled. Even the dog wanted to stand on his hind legs and howl in protest. I could hear the gathered whispering to one another, “What does she see in him?” Sometimes a guy just catches a lucky break!
This Friday, I will drive along the PCH and will take special notice of the thousands of flags blowing in the ocean breeze on Pepperdine’s lawn – the most fitting tribute I have seen to those who lost their lives that day. I will pay my respects by pulling over and recalling the horror of that fateful morning. And then I will drive to a favorite restaurant and will toast my bride. I will thank my lucky stars for the happiest 33 years of my life.