During the past year, whenever I would say to Cal that I had no idea what to write about, he would always say, “You can write about how wonderful I am.” Which of course isn’t a true thing about me. Nor is it a true thing about him.

Okay, okay. Truth. Sometimes he is wonderful.

We met in June of 1984 at a Younger Lawyers’ Weekend in Savannah. I had gone with a friend, and she introduced us at the opening cocktail party. But during the party I mostly talked to this other guy whom I had met at the last event and who walked me to my room. Cal happened to be in front of us, and I noticed what room he went into. A few minutes later, when the other guy left, I stuck my room key in Cal’s door lock and continued back to my room. As I was just about to open my door, Cal came into the hall putting on his shirt. He said something like come have a drink with me. So we sat on the steps and talked. For hours. The next morning before he left (he had to leave a day early), we were talking by the pool, and he said sometimes he came to Atlanta on business. I suggested he come just for the hell of it.

On Sunday I went home. Monday morning, no call. After lunch, no call. I went to a friend’s office to say he was never going to call.

When I got back to my office, my secretary handed me a message.


A year later, we were married. ❤️

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 365 true things about me
why this daily practice