January 8, 2011
Nate Jones, Vicki, and Brian (January 8, 1988)
Happy Anniversary Vicki. Twenty-three years ago on this date in my Children's Theatre Class, we were married. The Jefferson Performing Arts Flute Choir played, my students decorated the room, the principal gave you away, and the Social Studies teacher, who was an ordained minister, married us. After the wedding we ate lunch in the faculty cafeteria and went back to work.
One comment for this milestone:
Kelly C. said... Wow you impress me still after all these years; you still live life as it should be. BTW what made you who you are is your confidence in yourself, something I learned from you. Believe in yourself and others will believe in you too. Thanks Mr. B! Now with a little luck I will fall in love and be loved back with a woman as beautiful and loving as Vicki! April 5, 2011, 1:45 PM
November 19, 2010
Here's the story of what I did on your Birth Day:
In 1966, when I was a Marine serving in Vietnam, the only way we could "talk" to loved ones at home was through the MARS or Military Air Radio System. There were no cell phones.
MARS was beyond awkward. When done talking we had to say "Over." Same with whomever we were talking to:
"Hello honey, how are you? Over."
"Fine, I miss you. Over."
Your mother was due on 10 November 1966 and she was past due. So on Saturday, 19 November, around 2300, I stood in a long line of Marines outside the MARS station north of Danang. It was pouring rain.
Inside the MARS tent there was a sound booth with a table covered in green felt. It looked like a poker table, complete with hanging light. Beyond the table's illuminated circle it was black and a voice in the dark instructed me to put on the ear phones, speak clearly into the microphone, and bla, bla, bla, about "over."
Your grandmother, Alice, answered the phone.
"It's Brian," she screamed. "He's on the phone."
Then nothing. Silence. She forgot to say over.
When she figured out how to use the system, she told me that your mother was at the hospital, you were born early that morning, and everyone was fine. She also gave me your stats - nine pounds, eight ounces and twenty-one inches long.
"WOW," I yelled at the voice in the dark, "I HAVE A SON."
The voice said, "Yes, sir, I heard. Congratulations."
I ran outside and told all the Marines in line, then ran back to my hooch to spread the news.
There were a few grunts of congratulations and some complaints about me turning on the light. But I had a son, Charles Colin Biggs, born at 0109 on 19 November 1966.
Six months later I met you for the first time.
Happy Birthday Charlie
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October 24, 2010
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