It all started with “Bambi.” I was the assistant features editor at the Savannah News-Press and found myself sitting one morning in the foreign land of the sports department at the other end of the second floor. Workers were remodeling the features department offices in our pre-Civil War building and we had to move to another area for our morning meeting.
Because sports people worked evenings for the most part, we expected the sports office to be empty. And it was when we got there. But I had forgotten about the lone sports guy who had to be at the paper at 5 a.m. to get the afternoon paper out.
About 9:30 a.m., in walks this guy from the “back shop,” where the pages were being built and prepared for the presses. He stopped dead in his tracks.
He didn’t yell. He wasn’t annoyed. He was just very, very surprised by all the women feature writers in his normally deserted sports department. I went over, introduced myself, and explained the situation.
“No problem,” he said, smiling as he sat down at his desk which, by chance, we hadn’t taken over.
He told me his name was Brian Love. As he finished off his afternoon-edition chores, I started chatting with him (shocking to those who know me. Not because I was chatting, but because it took me an hour or two to strike up the conversation).
Brian Love was cute, dontcha know. When he announced his afternoon plans, he became even cuter. He was going to see the re-release of Disney’s “Bambi” in theaters. “I think it will be fun,” he said.
Be still my heart. Any guy admitting he was going to a Disney movie because he hadn’t seen it since his childhood is a guy I want to know.
Five weeks later, we had our first date, to see the movie “A Fish Called Wanda,” a date that I plotted, er, initiated. Fast forward one year and one week. Brian Love and I got married almost one year to the day of our first date. Our wedding went off without a hitch (so to speak) on a steamy August day in Savannah, Georgia. It was a morning wedding, and by 5 p.m. we had arrived at the airport for our honeymoon trip to Washington, D.C. Except that our flight was canceled. We managed to get seats on another airline, but we had a couple of hours until takeoff.
So our wedding day meal amounted to pretty awful hamburgers at an airport restaurant.
On Monday, we celebrated a 30-year marriage that has involved moving to three states, two houses and a condominium and raising two children — not necessarily in that order. How did we celebrate? With double burgers from Five Guys. And we were both at work, getting this week’s West Life ready for publication.
Some things never change. And for that, I am truly grateful.
Contact this reporter at email@example.com or 440-871-5797.