"Wow," I'm thinking, "that sounds kind of arrogant;  just make up a day to do what everyone else does on the day designated for it--talk about love of your life!"   "So what," I say, "always remember why you write this blog, it's to honor and commemorate that extraordinary woman who made your life complete."  When things come from our hearts they are never late--always right on time.  (Hmmmm;. . .  is there a poem in there somewhere?)

The slide project I've begun working on has turned out to be quite interesting and satisfying, albeit with moments of sadness and pain.  Back in the era when it was popular to get a good 35 mm SLR camera we did just that, and took literally thousands of pictures that were turned into slides.  The slides have all been safely stored in a plastic bin in carousels that were used in the projector; the projector still works fine, and the spare bulb that Gwen insisted we buy is still in the package it came in.  It's taken  along time for me to get up the courage to watch all those slides (There are close to 2,200 of them.).  I did watch them, and now I'm using a scanner to convert them to pictures that are stored in my computer.  When I'm finished I hope to make CDs with all the pictures on them for each of our children.  Technologically challenged as I am, I'm sure friends and family members will chime in with suggestions on the best way to do that.

As I look at each slide it evokes memories of all the times and places and trips Gwen and I were able to share with each other and our family-- living in Oregon, Wisconsin, Marquette, Flint, Ann Arbor,  Long Island.  Then trips we took to Yellowstone, Banff, Quebec, Boston, New York, Vermont, Seattle, Florida, Casimir's Cottage in the U. P., camping at Chicaugoan Lake--painful as it is to see the pictures of Gwen, young and beautiful as she was then, it is also a reminder to be thankful for the many opportunities we had to enjoy life and our children and especially each other.  Also, I am once again taken by how bravely and gracefully she managed Type I Diabetes; for more than 40 years,

I am grateful, Dear, for the song we sang together and for the beautiful melody that remains--even today, a dreary, foggy Second St. Valentine's Day.