20 Years of The Shadow...

By the time most of you read this it will be at least Dec 15 and I will be on my way home, if I’m not actually already there (depending, of course, on when you read this). As I mentioned in yesterday’s rather long post, a story is a fine thing, but without an audience it doesn’t do much. Please humor me one more time.

This story is certainly a little more personal as it directly involves The Shadow. For you see, as I arrive home on the 15th, it is our 20th wedding anniversary – and if you know me, even if you’ve never met the Shadow, you are aware she has miles of patience and an unlikely tolerance for sophomoric behavior. Bless her.

The story I’d like to tell involves how such an unlikely couple met in the first place. I promise it won’t be as long as the Road Trip post, but I also promise it’s all true even if it sounds sort of like an '80s John Hughes movie.

On an August Friday in 1990 a friend of mine asked what I was doing on a weekend and the answer, fortunately, turned out to be, "not a damned thing." So he told me that I should go with him and some other folks to something called an English Civil War Society Recreation Battle. It’s like a Renaissance faire but with firearms. I was hesitant, because as much as I wanted to be an 28th-Level Powder Monkey or whatever it was they had in the 1640s, I was less than enthused.

“What else you got?” I asked.

“Well, after the battle, basically there’s just a whole lot of drinking,” he said. 

. . . . . . .  

“What do you recommend I wear?”

So, on Saturday we went to the car (yup, same POS car plus a moderately passable heating and ventilation system, a window that went all the way to the top, windshield wipers that stayed put, and a stereo. Thanks for asking.) The deal was this – apparently, there is a lot of gear associated with battles of this timeframe, armor, gauntlets, more armor etc. So the first trip we would take down only the stuff we needed for a weekend sleeping outdoors playing dress-up.

Essentially, we loaded the car with booze.

The Brits got by on beer. We were bringing everything else. And Mountain Dew. Apparently Brits couldn’t get Mountain Dew at the time and they seemed to really like the stuff. After the 2 hour trip to the destination, we would turn around and get all the armor and non-essential crap like sleeping bags, tents etc. So, I had 6 hours driving in front of me which was fair enough as I figured I didn’t have to pay for the booze.

In the parking lot my friend, Mark, introduced me around to the other Americans and a family of Brits, one brother and two sisters. I smiled, shook hands and got in my car. When my friend got in, I looked him straight in the eye and said this:



Yes, this is the Shadow. Just to prove it's not Vera from Cheers
whom you always hear about but never see. Shadow exists.

 “That’s my wife.”

“What?”

“That girl, right there,” I pointed through the window, “that’s my wife.”

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t remember; it’s something really weird though.”

“Whatever.”

Two hours later, before our return trip back to base, he said the following to me.

“Roe, go ask her to come with us already, you’re driving me fucking crazy.”

I asked. She looked at me like I was Geppetto’s first attempt at a wooden boy.

Four hours later and with Mark no longer speaking to me, I did what any guy my age would do. I grabbed a bottle of booze (It was honey meade. I mean, come on, it was a civil war recreation after all) and found this woman with the funny name. Turns out she would speak to me after all, which came as a pleasant surprise and we talked for some time.

Now, I’m a bit of a believer in serendipity and not believing this woman was the age she told me, I asked for an ID. When she showed me, I was hit with the serendipity hammer -- her birthday coincided with a girl I had dated in high school and who was (and still is) a very good friend of mine. This girl’s mother was British. The girl in front of me was British and from a serendipity standpoint how often is it you find someone born on Valentine’s Day?

Much less two?

Who like you?

And aren’t related to you?

Well, we hung out that weekend together and the following weekend she came to the base. I’d pick her up at the train station on Friday evening and bring her back Sunday night or Monday morning. I believe it was the third weekend I finally just asked her to marry me. To this day I’m not exactly sure where that came from. You know how on TV and the movies, guys sit around in angst about that question for days or months? That always makes me laugh.

Well, she said yes, which meant there were things to be done. But first, I had to go back to the States for a month to go to a training class. So I was gone most of September and a bit of October and we decided to get married by a magistrate in December. Honestly, I think by the time we were actually married, we had probably spent all of 30-45 days in each other’s company. But I did get to meet her mother first.

This is a good time to point out that the Shadow has a wry bit of humor and an excellent sense of timing. Upon arriving at her mum’s house, I was ushered into the kitchen -- and already being overwhelmed at a 16th century house with brick floors and large beams, goats and cats -- I sat at the table. Polite introductions all around; offers of tea and then mum looks straight at me and says, “Why do you want to marry my daughter?”

Huh? I look to the Shadow for help. She looks at me, starts to laugh and leaves the room with me staring at her mother...

I don’t remember anything else that happened that day. I’m fortunate, in an odd way, however, in that her mum had spent part of the war (WWII) in tunnels in London during the Blitz and was well disposed toward Americans.

Now, back to the wedding… The office pool had this marriage lasting for 6 months – tops. And that was from some of my co-workers who actually liked me. And I’m sure there were people who believed we “had” to get married. You’ll note I’ve mentioned that my eldest is 8. And we’ve been married 20 years. The naysayers lost that pool too.

By the time we had an apartment, Gulf War I was kicking off in good form and I was sent to western England where I spent just over a month. When I got back, we had about 3-4 weeks together before I was sent to Turkey for a month and a half. I got back in mid-May of 1991 and we had a church wedding in late June. I’d been married for 6 months and had spent about 3 of those months actually with my wife. I suppose as we had spent so little time together in what passed for a courtship, it wasn’t such a big deal.

Military people spend an inordinate amount of time away from their families. My time away in the last 20 years is negligible compared to a lot of people. Our civilian friends were mortified when we told them I would be coming to Texas and likely to spend upwards of a year away. We just kind of shrug our shoulders and move on – it’s just the way it’s been since day one. If you’re not from a military family, and you meet one, I’ll guarantee it’s the same way. It’s just part of the culture – and it’s why you’ll always hear people say that the spouse and family serve too. Because they certainly do, make no mistake about it.

I’d like to thank Mark, my friend who invited me on that ECW re-enactment. I’d like to thank him for putting up with me on the car journey, and threatening me with physical violence should I not go talk to the girl with odd name.

Now, it's 20 years later and I still look at her and think, "That’s my wife… Aren’t I a lucky bastard"
Shadow, I love you. Happy Anniversary.