Last night, Pam and I celebrated the 16th year of our engagement. There’s nothing special about “16,” of course, except that it’s one more than 15. I remember when Mary Miller, the wife of my previous pastor, died very unexpectedly in 1989. Not long after I proposed to Pam. Mary and Denny had been married for 15 years. I thought that was such an incredibly long time.

But now, I’ve been married for longer than that, and Denny has been remarried (to Karin) longer than he was married to Mary.

In December, my brother Stu celebrated his 25th year with Joyce. This summer, my parents celebrate their 50th.

I proposed to Pam on the day after Valentines Day, because I refused to be traditional or predictable or clicheish. I was ready on Valentines Day, but intentionally waited until that day had passed.

Last night Pam and I went to our favorite restaurant, Red River Steakhouse, then came home and watched the previous night’s episode of “24,” our favorite show. I think only one person was killed on screen, which may be a record for that show. Of course, a nuclear reactor is in melt-down, with many people destined to die horribly of radiation poisoning, but that’s all off-screen. In the video age, if it doesn't happen on screen, it doesn't happen.

Alas, I have drifted morbidly away from the romantic theme of this post. Fortunately, Pam enjoys the mayhem as much as I do. Just one of those things that keep us together, I suppose.