In just a few days, July will end and August will be here. On the third day of this August, Budge and I will celebrate thirty years of marriage. This is, in a life of disappointments, by far, the greatest thing I have ever done. With Budge’s help, we have navigated three decades of richer or poorer — mostly poorer –, sickness and health, mostly health, although as we both get older, sickness seems to be catching up. We’ve reached this milestone without grave and devastating arguments or fights. I know it’s a cliche but we’ve been married thirty years and we truly have never had a fight. We’ve disagreed on some stuff, but once I saw the logic of her side of the argument, things smoothed right out. Truly, it’s wonderful to be together all these years and still love each other. What’s more, we still LIKE each other, which I would argue is much more important, because you can totally love someone you can’t stand. I don’t understand how it’s possible, but I’m old enough to know that it is.

We met on October 10, 1994. It was my very first day at Woodmont High School. My first teaching job. I was talking with the teacher I would be taking over for when this adorable girl with a mushroom haircut and weepy eyes burst into the room. She ran up to Beth and hugged her then pushed back and started relaying a tale of awful woe. Being an empathetic person, I cleared my throat and she whirled around on me. I simply said, in my calmest, meekest tone, “Is there anything I can do for you?” She stared at me with a gaze cold enough to freeze birds out of the sky and said, icily, “You can LEAVE.” Realizing in the moment discretion was the better part of valor, I took her words to heart and I left.

That was that. I didn’t think any more about the meeting and I didn’t see her again for weeks after. Then, about two or three weeks out from Christmas break, she bounced — yes, bounced, like Tigger in Winnie the Pooh stories — up to me with her friend, Ginger, in tow and announced to me that the next weekend she would be able to call me by my first name. I had no clue what she was on about until she mentioned the Natural Helper’s Retreat coming up the next weekend. A couple of other first year teachers and I had been picked by the students to be part of the Natural Helpers, a group in the school students felt safe and heard talking to. Budge was a member and apparently one of the perks was during the retreat students were allowed to call teachers by their first names.

I nodded dumbly and she bounded away. Ginger looked back over her shoulder at me and shook her head gloomily. I, for my part, forgot about the whole thing. That weekend came and it happened to be on my birthday. My birthday has always been problematic and this year was no different. I had left the house before Mama woke up so I didn’t get to hear her tell me happy birthday, so I was in a bit of a downcast mood. Then we had the trip up to Awanita Valley Camp Center near the North Carolina border in a snowstorm. We didn’t know for sure we’d be able to get there, but we managed.

Well, I got my bag of stuff and disembarked the bus. Just as I got inside, I was accosted and nearly tackled to the ground by Budge! She swept me up in a big hug and said, “Happy Birthday, Shannon!” Then she hugged me again and disappeared. I want you to remember now that this girl told me to leave just a couple of months prior, but now she acted ecstatic to see me. We got settled and sat down for supper. She sat next to me in her Notre Dame sweatshirt, which is still around her somewhere. Then we had activities for trust building and icebreakers and such. Every activity found her as my partner or part of my team. She was stuck to me like glue.

The next day was more of the same. Where I went, she went. Then came the Hummer ride up the mountain. I’ve written about that ride before. Go back and find it if you like. Suffice it to say, by the time we came down from the ride, I was as interested in her as she was in me. She had a beautiful personality — bursting with life and happiness. She was very intelligent as evidenced by the fact she was in all these honor’s courses. Also, not gonna lie, she was easy to look at. We dismounted the Hummer and we had a little while before supper. I remember us walking out to the lake shore and I had to force myself to not take her hand. We sat down side by side and talked. Serious talk. She said she liked me and I said I liked her and then proceeded to give a ton of reasons a relationship between us would never work. She agreed, but I don’t think, looking back, either one of us cared.

That night, we had a huge bonfire and I didn’t notice it happening but little by little I was left alone with several of the older husbands of the teachers. Budge and my closeness had not gone unnoticed. I learned stuff about Budge from those men that I should have learned about from her, but didn’t get the chance. Mostly, I learned her mother had died swiftly less than two full years earlier. I was warned against getting too attached to a student and basically read the riot act about how I would destroy my career if I pursued Budge romantically. I found out later on Budge was getting the same talk from the older women on the trip up in the lodge.

So, the weekend ended. On the way down the mountain, I took her class ring and wouldn’t give it back to her until she was about to pass out from anxiety. It was HER birthday, and that’s when I found out we had something else in common. Out birthdays were one day apart. Mine is January 6th and hers is January 8th. We parted without ceremony when we got back to the parking lot at school and that’s the way things stood for two weeks. Then I got a call one night. It was Budge and she was talking like words were money and she was trying to make a mint. What I finally understood once she slowed down a bit was she wanted us to go out on Martin Luther King Day. I said sure, figured out where to meet her, and waited for our first date. I vaguely remember feeling this might be a bad idea, but I was certain I didn’t care.

The day came and we met up and went to Greenville, the nearest place of any size. We were going to see a movie until we walked in the theater and half of Woodmont was there in line. We ducked out immediately, unseen, and realized our mistake at coming to the town everyone in school came to for entertainment. So, we went across town for ice cream and I took her back to her car. That was our first, ill advised, date.

If I told you all the details of our years together before Budge graduated, it would take more time than you are willing to sit here. Suffice it to say, we eventually were the WORST kept secret in Greenville County School District. The only person I realized didn’t know was our hated principal. Oh yeah, and Budge’s dad didn’t know about us for a year, but that’s more of those details I’m glossing over. I remember the day the president of the school PTA took me aside in front of the school and told me in low tones, “Shannon, the entire community knows about you and Budge. No one cares. We think you are good for her and are treating her well. We’ll run interference for you as much as we possibly can. Don’t worry about anything.”

We dated the rest of Budge’s junior year, all summer, then all of her senior year. She started coming to my church, and once Mama found out she was going home to an empty house on Friday nights until 4:00 and 5:00, well, Mama wasn’t having that so for Budge’s entire senior year, she packed a bag and came to my house on Friday night after the game and stayed until Sunday night or Monday morning. It was around that time she finally told her dad about us and that went better than expected.

She graduated in May, our engagement announcement came out first week of June, and we got married August 3, 1996. We went to Disney World on our honeymoon. We’ve been together ever since. We’ve been through some really tough things together. I lost all my grandparents and Mama in the first half of our marriage and she stayed right beside me. More recently, Dad, Budge’s dad, was diagnosed with dementia. He held out for four years. The last two he was in a VA hospital with a dementia wing and I went to see him two or three times a week for Budge so she would worry. He passed away two years ago.

It’s been an adventure. I’ve been with her half my life. Over half my life. I ask her all the time if she had and regrets about not going to a traditional college experience or getting married at eighteen years old. She always smiles and shakes her head. She says the same thing every time, “I asked for you. You’re my person.”

That’s enough. I, for my part, cannot fathom life without her.

So, y’all know I love you. Be good and keep those feet clean!