“Can’t be afraid of death. Only afraid of the pain you go through to get to death”
Today, May 30, Gaby and I celebrated 50 years of marriage, to each other. Consecutively. Not someone else. No combination of several others. Just us. Don’t know how, but we did it.
Through the day we reminisced the many and varied moments we shared through the years.
One very painful and embarrassing moment I can’t shake is the time I challenged THE ZIPPER.
It was a warm spring day in Memphis, Tn. Circa 1977.
A carnival had come to town. A young man’s fancy and an old fool’s folly.
David, 6 or 7 at the time, heard about it and wanted to go in the worst way.
Seems he had heard about this really neat ride called THE ZIPPER.
He really wanted to ride it. And I, being the macho father that I am, wanted to go with him. Just to show him how it’s done. You understand.
His mother wasn’t too excited about the idea and would only acquiesce if we agreed to wait for at least 2 hours after we had lunch. Didn’t want us getting sick so she said.
Get serious woman. Men don’t get sick I said. We shall ride the beast and conquer it I said. I beat my chest for emphasis.
David and I raised our fists as we thundered out the door, our veins pumping with testosterone. To conquer the beast. Make a manly statement. Women. What the hell do they know?
A short drive and there it was, the carnival. We parked. We got tickets. And then, we sought out the monster. Suddenly …….. THE ZIPPER.
It seemed to mock all who would challenge. We watched and listened as it screamed and moaned through gut wrenching gyrations. Medieval torture.
I may have winced. Not sure. Probably just gas. But David, no fear in that boy. Just eager anticipation.
Let’s go Dad.
Yes. Yes. Of course. Let’s do this. Wait. David. Are you sure? Yes, of course you are. Just checking.
We rode that beast for 60 sickening seconds before I relieved my gut of that tuna fish salad I had for lunch. Just 45 minutes ago.
David didn’t fare much better.
On the drive home we vowed to NOT TELL his mother. We crossed our hearts and swore to keep our secret forever. Because you know, Momma would never let us forget it.
And I would be in the dog house for months.
Arrived home. Gaby asks how was it?
And David blurts out…….DADDY THREW UP BUT I DIDN’T.
He always was a Momma’s boy.
“There may come a day when I really need to lie, and then it might be handy if you think I’m honest” – The Thirst by Jo Nesbo