My second wife, Kathy, would have been 54 years old today. She died on January 15, 1999 at the age of 41. She was a great teacher, musician and mother and I am fortunate to have known her at all, let alone to have been married to her for 18 years.
I met her because a friend of mine had convinced me to go to a symphony orchestra concert, then to a reception afterward. I saw her standing across the room in her black concert dress, a 5’11” vision with strawberry red hair. I thought, wow, this is the original long cool woman in a black dress. For a wonder, she seemed to return my glance. My heart felt like a cat had licked it. I thought, no, this woman couldn’t be interested in me. This wasn’t too long after my exceedingly messy divorce from my first wife, the notorious “Jezebel,” and my confidence was none too high. To make a long story short, I was mistaken. She was indeed interested to some extent and we were married 4 months later.
Happy birthday, sweetheart. I kept my promise to take care of our baby. You would be very proud of her.