Later today I’ll be going to the funeral of a neighbor, a wonderful woman who lived in this community nearly a century.  She and her husband, who survives her, were married 76 years.

I was 27 years old when Cherie and I got married.

Yesterday was our 27th wedding anniversary.

I went to my office the day we were married. Went straight from work to the church. Cherie took the whole day off. What a slacker.

January 19, 1988

January 19, 1988

After getting married, we drove across the bay to St. Petersburg Beach and spent the night at the Don Cesar hotel.

Exactly 27 years later, we went out to the barn at 9 p.m. into a record cold night to bottle-feed goats. Quite a change from a warm evening at the beach. We never would have guessed in 1988 that our life 27 years later would include feeding goats in the freezing cold. Life can be funny like that.

27 years later.  This isn't the Gulf of Mexico.

27 years later. This isn’t the Gulf of Mexico.

I’m not sure we’ll make it 76 years, but I suppose it’s possible.  Either way, the first 27 have been great.  And interesting.