What ever goes on in my head at night when I am sound asleep is more than I can guess but I would sure love to figure it out. Today I woke up thinking about a box of cards up on the shelf in the closet that Kenny received when we had his retirement party. That coupled with this song click here. He was a trucker and while he was not over the road, he was out of town a lot. I have chased him all over Colorado, New Mexico and Utah since I went to visit him where he was hauling for one company or another. We bought a park model trailer which was his home away from home. With that he had his home away from home. He cooked for himself and kept his little trailer very neat and clean and even made his bed! Sure saw a lot of country and I met a lot of very nice people. But I digress.
When Kenny and I started dating back in 1982 we were both fresh out of failed marriages. We had known each other while married to previous mates, to we were not strangers. Most of our time was spent commiserating about how we had both been wronged. Now, that common bond will only keep people together for so long.
I love to dance and back home dancing in bars was common practice and the next dance was just one beer away and a new dance partner always ready. Not so in Colorado. Kenny did not dance and had not one bone in his body that knew what music was, but he decided we should take square dance lessons at the City Park. Seems his friends, Johnny and Betty were square dancers. You know I am game for damn near anything, so off we went. Once a week without fail. I even bought a black and white checkered square dancing dress. Lots of crinoline under skirts held it out. This was fun! Granted it was not the same as the western swing, rock and roll, and waltzing that I was used to, but it would suffice.
Learning to square dance had been fun, but when the lessons ended, so did our dancing. I tried to work with Kenny at home and teach him to dance, but the man had not one ounce of rhythm any where in his body, so that was given up as a lost cause. Now anyone can tell you, in order for a relationship to thrive the participants in said relationship need to have some sort of common bond.
His kids were grown and gone. I had 2 left at home. My kids did not need a step father since they had their own father. Since we were both a little leery of the wedding ring scenario, we decided that we would just "shack up" and see how it went. We decided that if we could survive together for one year that we would cross the "wedded bliss" bridge at that point. So he found and bought this house out here on the Mesa, and Kenny Mercer and Lou Seeger set up house keeping.
I had spent my whole life fishing as had Kenny, but with one difference. He liked to fish out of a boat. I was terrified of water and neither one of us could swim (still can't). I had always fished from the bank of the river. A real fisherman will know the difference styles of fishing are as different as night and day. His tackle box was full of lures and stuff like that: mine was worms and bobbers. Getting that man to set on a creek bank and wait for his line to dance was just not happening, so I made the sacrifice and crawled in his little 15 foot aluminum boat and we cast out into the Clear Creek Reservoir over by some place near Alamosa.
One year later we were still together. We had started a new business called Ken Mercer Trucking and were doing well. The drive line needed repaired on December 23, 1983, but the shop was closed. It was 15 degrees below zero and his words to me were, "Let's just get this shittin mess over with." We drove to Canon City, got a license and were untied in Holy Matrimony on the 5th floor of an assisted living facility by a retired minister and witnessed by his bed ridden wife and a stranger in the hall.
And we lived happily ever after until his death in 2003.
When Kenny and I started dating back in 1982 we were both fresh out of failed marriages. We had known each other while married to previous mates, to we were not strangers. Most of our time was spent commiserating about how we had both been wronged. Now, that common bond will only keep people together for so long.
I love to dance and back home dancing in bars was common practice and the next dance was just one beer away and a new dance partner always ready. Not so in Colorado. Kenny did not dance and had not one bone in his body that knew what music was, but he decided we should take square dance lessons at the City Park. Seems his friends, Johnny and Betty were square dancers. You know I am game for damn near anything, so off we went. Once a week without fail. I even bought a black and white checkered square dancing dress. Lots of crinoline under skirts held it out. This was fun! Granted it was not the same as the western swing, rock and roll, and waltzing that I was used to, but it would suffice.
Learning to square dance had been fun, but when the lessons ended, so did our dancing. I tried to work with Kenny at home and teach him to dance, but the man had not one ounce of rhythm any where in his body, so that was given up as a lost cause. Now anyone can tell you, in order for a relationship to thrive the participants in said relationship need to have some sort of common bond.
His kids were grown and gone. I had 2 left at home. My kids did not need a step father since they had their own father. Since we were both a little leery of the wedding ring scenario, we decided that we would just "shack up" and see how it went. We decided that if we could survive together for one year that we would cross the "wedded bliss" bridge at that point. So he found and bought this house out here on the Mesa, and Kenny Mercer and Lou Seeger set up house keeping.
I had spent my whole life fishing as had Kenny, but with one difference. He liked to fish out of a boat. I was terrified of water and neither one of us could swim (still can't). I had always fished from the bank of the river. A real fisherman will know the difference styles of fishing are as different as night and day. His tackle box was full of lures and stuff like that: mine was worms and bobbers. Getting that man to set on a creek bank and wait for his line to dance was just not happening, so I made the sacrifice and crawled in his little 15 foot aluminum boat and we cast out into the Clear Creek Reservoir over by some place near Alamosa.
One year later we were still together. We had started a new business called Ken Mercer Trucking and were doing well. The drive line needed repaired on December 23, 1983, but the shop was closed. It was 15 degrees below zero and his words to me were, "Let's just get this shittin mess over with." We drove to Canon City, got a license and were untied in Holy Matrimony on the 5th floor of an assisted living facility by a retired minister and witnessed by his bed ridden wife and a stranger in the hall.
And we lived happily ever after until his death in 2003.
