Even though Ken Cannon and I went to the same grade school and possibly played kissing tag at recess, I don't remember meeting him until we wound up at Provo High School together. The first time I saw him, he was sitting at the end of a dark hall wearing a torn up sweatshirt looking too cool for school. He had lots of dark facial hair and a wild perm. Only I didn't know it was a perm then. But whatever. I am cool with guys and perms. In fact, my brother had a perm once. TRQ gave it to him one Sunday night when he was twelve years old before we went on a long road trip, which meant we all had to sit there in a station wagon and smell his hair for awhile. Although that's not the point.
The point is this: I thought he (Ken Cannon, not my brother) was cute. But possibly a bad boy. A cute bad boy in a ripped up sweatshirt who could certainly NEVER be interested in someone like me.
Little did I know that we'd be walking down the aisle together a few years later on April 26, l977. That's right. It's our anniversary today.
Happy Anniversary, Ken Cannon. You're the best.
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8 comments:
Yep. There it is. The pretty girls always go for the bad boys, alas. But, okay, happy anniversary!
Happy Anniversary!
oh happy anniversary! I love you both!
Happy Anniversary! I'm happy to see that torn sweatshirts and boy perms can result in pure bliss!
I love your writing every single day, but particularly today.
Two out of my four boys had perms. Loved them. Ken, of course, is not a bad boy at all, and the two of you are a celebration of marriage. Congratulations.
Congratulations!
Happy Anniversary. How do you celebrate anniversaries?
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