A Toast

Since my mom died in November, I’ve been spending a few hours each week cleaning out her house and I’ve been finding some amazing things.

Today I was going through a shelf of old cookbooks and hidden behind the cookbooks, I found a nearly empty boxed bottle of Scotch and a shot glass.  Each year, they apparently marked their anniversary with a toast and, on the box, noted where they were on that day.

2/18/46 Akron    — this is their wedding day and place.
2/18/47 Peking
2/18/48 Tokyo
2/18/49 intl date line
2/18/50 Camp Pendleton

and with the exception of 1951, 1952 and 1953 (Dad was in Korea), the list goes on until the last entry of 2/18/2004.  Dad died later that year and that ended the tradition that I never knew existed.

 

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