![]() ![]() By the time Betsy’d figured out what was causing her to lose her lunch, I’d already committed to the ROTC university program at my father’s insistence that “all good men serve.” Needless to say, our families were both horrified and overjoyed at the earlier-than-expected merging of the two historic clans, while Betsy and I were only horrified. Her family was the Hobart behind Hobie, Texas, after all. William for my dad and Hobart for Betsy’s. The result was our son Billy, William Hobart Wilde. We’d gone to a school dance together and fumbled our way into each other’s bodies in the back seat of my mom’s Pontiac Bonneville. ![]() ![]() She’d wanted to move to the city and live a big life, and becoming a mother right out of high school put the brakes on that plan right away. And if it was even possible, Betsy was more bitter about it than I was. It stomped on all my dreams of getting off my parents’ ranch and away from my small town in Texas. The man who would take a broken army medic made up of mostly selfish immaturity and familial obligation and turn him into something worthy, something decent and redeemed.Īt age eighteen I found myself the star of a shotgun wedding to my high school sweetheart. Long-Term Health Insurance: Things to know aboutĪnd such a moment it was when I met the man who would turn one of those compact tiny capsules of time into a full lifetime stretched long and rich over decades, who would become the very half of my heart I hadn’t known I’d been living without. ![]()
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