The organ music made us run. Fast. Really.

The wedding wouldn’t have been what it was without the folks in this photo. Extra-special thanks (again) to Amity’s immediate family (Jan, Ron, Eddie, Justin) and to my immediate family (Pat, Virgil, Becky). And, of course, my best man Mark deserves a little recognition. And so does my groomsman, Thom. We’re still close friends today.

And again, we miss those no longer with us. Emil, Grandpa English, Cousin Cary and Don Garcia (not pictured). I wish I had a good picture of Don, but I don’t. Don was riding his bike at night without a helmet when he was hit by an unknown someone (may God forgive that person).

Don’t ride without a helmet! Not ever!

The day finally came. September 5, 1998. We both said, “I do,” and we officially started our journey as a family. Tim married us at our home church, Milwaukie Alliance. Let’s see . . . can I remember all the bridesmaids and groomsmen? There was Hannah, Sarah and Jennifer. Mark was my best man. Thom was a groomsman. Tim conducted the ceremony. Jerry played the organ (and he played some really weird stuff). My immediate family, Amity’s immediate family, relatives—most everyone was there.

And my Grandpa Jesse was there. Grandpa Emil. Don Garcia. Cousin Cary. We miss them.

Our wedding day, September 5, 1998, was a day of new beginnings. It was also a day for me to say, “Sorry Jan, she’s mine now.” No need to fret though. I’ve taken good care of her the last twelve years.

So, not only did she actually come up to Alaska with me, and not only did she put on all the gear and pose for pictures—she went fishing. In the rain. And she caught some fish, as you can see. This was the first of many trips to Alaska for us. It was always funny watching her try to net a fish. She’d shut her eyes and stick the net out and wave it around, hoping the fish would be in it when she opened her eyes.

In the summer of 1998, we decided to take a trip to Alaska. After all, my parents wanted to meet Amity. What better way than to drag her up to Ketchikan and force her to go fishing? My parents figured that if she survived the trip to Alaska, she’d be worthy to marry their son.

On May 30, 1998, I drove Amity up to Timberline Lodge. We arrived, I gave the engagement ring to the very cooperative waiter and told him I wanted the ring brought to the table in the rose. He said, “No problem, Buddy. We’ve done this before.” He brought the rose to the table, she discovered the ring, everyone turned around and clapped and the rest is history.

A long time ago, I met Amity. We played pinochle at a Thanksgiving get-together in 1996 (and I hated that game) but I thought I should play because she was playing. After that we started emailing and the rest is history. We started doing all sorts of fun things together, including day trips to the beach, like this one back in 1997.