A Life of Words

For 29 years, Kay has been putting up with all my quirks … and let’s be fair, vice versa. We certainly both have our share. But to make it this long as a married couple, we must be doing something right, right?

On Sept. 24, 1994, we dedicated ourselves to each other at First United Methodist of Mercedes deep in the Rio Grande Valley. Kay spent her entire childhood in the Valley just this side of the border from Mexico, having been born in Harlingen, living as a young girl in Mercedes (where her father grew up), and spending much of her youth in McAllen, where she graduated from high school in 1982.

And the charming little church where we married? It’s the very place where her parents, Caryl and Shelley Hale Collier Jr., were the first couple to marry in November 1958. It was a great honor to join lives in the same sanctuary where they had done so 36 years earlier.

I still look at photos of Kay that day and marvel at her beauty and grace, the stunning elegance of her dress — and how unbelievably lucky I, of all men, was to be standing next to her. For her to have really chosen *me*.

Fate — and, really, our dogs (her Ginny and my Fox and Patrick) — had brought Kay and me to that day. I consider myself the most fortunate guy ever that, when I moved from one North Arlington apartment complex to another called Huntington Meadows in summer 1992, I went to the one where Kay also had recently moved. Just a few months later, we caught sight of each other while walking our dogs more than once, and soon we started talking and became friends in early 1993.

On Tax Day that April, I invited Kay to my apartment for homemade pizza, using a recipe that had published in the student newspaper I’d spent two years working as a sports writer/editor for while attending Texas A&M. Kay had no idea I thought of it as a date, but we had a wonderful time.

Because we both had experienced our share of dating misfires and were well into adulthood — Kay was going on 29 and I’d just turned 32 — neither of us were ready to jump into anything serious. I’d had a long-term relationship (from summer 1982, when I was in college, until the breakup in June 1991) and definitely wanted to be careful. And after some forgettable experiences, Kay said she had pretty much “sworn off” guys.

As we got to know each other better, though, Kay’s special qualities drew me closer and more interested, and my fears gradually faded. And while that was happening to me, the same was going on with her. Apparently I cinched the deal when I delivered some Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies to her one day while she was studying (with a bachelor’s from TCU, Kay had gone back to school at UT-Arlington). Early that summer of ’93, after a few months feeling our way through the early stages of whatever it was we were building, we officially started dating.

I hate cliches, but you know what the rest is (rhymes with “mystery.”) Around our jobs — me as a copy editor at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram and Kay as a teller at Bank One in Fort Worth after she gave up on the back-to-school plan — we went to movies, lunches/dinners, concerts, on short trips and whatever else we could come up with.

In March 1994, we got engaged on one incredibly memorable day. First, we went to a George Strait concert — actually, George has always been Kay’s first love — at the Mesquite Arena, sitting in the stands before going down later to dance on the dirt floor as the box containing Kay’s engagement ring hung out in my pocket.

From there, we went to dinner at Houston’s restaurant (R.I.P.) in Dallas, where, with a bouquet of yellow roses sitting on the table, I waited until what seemed the right moment — after Kay had drunk a couple of glasses of wine — and asked her to marry me. Not that I thought she needed alcoholic inducement. She happily, tipsily and kissingly said absolutely.

Marrying at 33 and 30 was a bit later than a lot of folks, of course, but I don’t think either of us felt like we’d missed out on anything. We have two children, who recently turned 22 and 19, to complete our family. We did end up having them later than we planned, due to the unforeseen sort of circumstances many couples deal with (Kay was 37 and 40 when our kids were born; I was 40 and 43).

But as with getting married in our early 30s, becoming older parents gave us a chance at life experiences during different times than many other couples — like the joy of having teenagers in our mid- to late-50s, and it really wasn’t the horror you might imagine. Also, it gave me the opportunity to have random strangers ask me questions like, “Oh, is this your granddaughter?” and for silver-maned me to reply, “Um, no, she’s my daughter.”

Like all married couples, Kay and I have been through A LOT. But our spats never linger, our problems never turn out to be unsolvable, and we make situations work when they seem unworkable. She’s our family troubleshooter, yardwork champ and DIY expert, because I’m one of the world’s worst DIY’ers. Pretty much all I do is bring home the money and make sure the cars get their oil changed and inspected on time. Well, that’s not *all* I do, but Kay definitely wins all the awards for keeping the household running smoothly … when that’s doable, anyway.

So all my love, appreciation, devotion, admiration, respect and awe go out to my remarkable wife for what she has meant to me the past 29 years. I’d have to say that I done good — very, very good.