One Friday we knocked off early,
got cleaned up, and drove to the Leon County Courthouse,
where Judge Gwynn married me and Brenda in his chambers.
The wedding reception was held at the beach cottage on Alligator Point.
The crew threw grits on us, not having any rice. It was like beach sand
in the nuptial bed. The weekend was our honeymoon. We were back at work
on Monday. For a wedding dinner we had fried mullet at The Oaks, like always.
We've been married over 40 years now. I guess we're going to make it.
We had rented an apartment, a garret, near Lafayette Park,
across the street from Jerry Stern, and just down the street
from Jim and Cindy Miller. Stern taught English at the university.
He reviewed books in the Tallahassee Democrat. He left me out
of the year-end round-ups of who is the Florida writer?
What is the Florida novel? I don't wonder.
I was the Wild Man of Panacea.
Not an author. I was Crazy Jack.
Jack the Raver. I was the 10% That Didn't Get the Word.
A Loose Can on the Deck. The Bull in the China Shop
of American Letters.