I would like to thank everyone for being here today to celebrate the 50th anniversary of a most special day. My wife Amelia and I have spent the best years of our lives together. We’ve seen sunsets in Paris, sunrises in Hawaii, and the moon’s glow reflecting off the Mediterranean Sea. And after 50 years of marriage I can say with one hundred percent certainty; no single person could ever make me more happy than stovetop macaroni and cheese.
Don’t get me wrong – there are very few feelings greater than simply holding Amelia’s hand. There are fewer feelings greater than waking up alongside the smiling face that I first fell for all those many, many years ago. In fact, it just so happens that only superior feeling is standing in your kitchen and breathing in a full on face-blast of steam from a bowl of bright yellow macaroni and cheese.
I remember our honeymoon – 3 nights in Buffalo. We were on a budget then, but we had a great time. I had macaroni and cheese for nearly every meal. A stove was standard in some hotels then. Maybe it still is; I don’t know I don’t stay in hotels very often these days. These days I make my macaroni and cheese at home. The home I’ve made with Amelia.
Of course we drive each other crazy. These days she’s got her picture-memory books, church activity groups, weekend bus trips to the resort with the girls. And I’ve got my trusty sauce pot and my wooden spoon, both usually just sitting in the sink, plastered with a florescent orange film that can mean only one thing – someone has just filled his insides with a warm feeling that is slightly greater than actual human love.
We’ve been through a lot, me and that sauce pot.
We haven’t done it alone. Over the years our love has expanded our family through three beautiful children. Alison, Aaron and little Carl; those three have spiced up my life like so many small dabs of hot sauce. I don’t always like hot sauce in my macaroni and cheese. And I don’t always get along with my children. But sometimes I have to admit: it works.
Forty percent of marriages end in divorce and to be honest, that doesn’t surprise me one bit. Keeping another person happy is no simple task for another person who is not themselves macaroni and cheese. Learning to compromise is key. Sometimes you just have to settle. For instance, I don’t always buy the name-brand stove-top mac and cheese. I’ll go with a generic store brand, with their oddly shaped pastas and nondescript powdered cheese packets. Whatever. It’s fine with me.
If I had to pass on some advice, it would be to listen, laugh, love and use precise measurements when mixing in the milk or water and butter for cheese sauce. Also add the milk slowly. Patience is a virtue.
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