Fifty-two years ago I walked into Mark’s Bar in Niles, Michigan. While I was enjoying a beer with my friend Sharon, the barmaid came over to our booth and suggested we go over and cheer up Craig, the son of the owner. He had just been the pallbearer for his favorite young cousin who had died suddenly of a brain aneurysm. I tried to think of the most encouraging thing to say and walked over and said, “I don’t believe death is the end of everything.” He responded that he didn’t think it was the time or the place to discuss religion. I responded that I didn’t think I was and mumbled something like “Well, sometime we’ll have to do that.” I went back to the booth and continued visiting with my friend, when Craig came over and asked me out for the following Thursday night. I forgot about it and when he came to pick me up, I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know he knew my name or where I lived. My mother stalled him and said I might still be at the newspaper where I was working. I got dressed up while he went to check. On his way back he stopped once again at the house and I was dressed for a date. That was April 12, 1970. We were married Dec 26, 1970, and raised five children, and I still half-jokingly say he is the best thing I ever picked up in a bar.
