It was 43 years ago when I went to the courthouse in Huntsville, Alabama to get our marriage license. I was 18 so I could sign for myself. But David was 20, and in the State of Alabama at that time, the groom had to be 21 to sign for himself.
So there I was with David’s father, who was going to sign for him. David wasn’t even there because he was in school in Birmingham, about 100 miles away.
We were in line with four or five couples ahead of us when I became aware of some of the clerks looking at Gus and I, kinda whispering, then looking, whispering, then looking. I was sure they were talking about us, and I was right.
When we got to the counter and Gus explained that he was there to sign for his son, the clerk sighed and said, “Oh, we thought the two of you were getting married.”
Well, I was absolutely shocked and outraged and righteously indignant. The thought that somebody imagined me marrying this old man was appalling! Years later, I realized that he was in his mid 40’s at the time.
Somehow that doesn’t seem so old now.