My Beautiful Saxon Princess

October 1976

I figured we had just enough time to get to the show before curtain time but a recalcitrant shoelace thought otherwise. As I ducked back into my room to change footwear my date eyed a bookish looking folio leaning against my stereo and read the title aloud:

“‘Home before the Leaves Fall’. What’s that?”

I sighed ( it was at best eighteen months since the fall of Saigon) and answered: “It’s a combat simulation of the opening moves of World War One. A war game. Part of my studies in ROTC”


Even the wrinkle her nose took with that mild expression of distaste failed to disturb the grace of her Princess Diana profile, but I still knew there was no real future as a couple with her.

October 1976 (Two weeks later)

In a low-grade flash of déjà vu I was again rushing to replace reluctant footwear in an effort to beat curtain- time when my new acquaintance spied the same the same slip-cased volume and echoed previous date’s inquiry:

“‘Home before the Leaves Fall’. What’s that?”

I sighed even deeper as realized I either had to do a better job of housekeeping or forego a social life then answered (again) “It’s a combat simulation of the opening moves of World War One. A war game. Part of my studies in ROTC”.

She paused, picked up the game and said “Last summer I made a model of a British 6 pounder anti-tank gun

I was in love!

When we first met my Beautiful Saxon Princess she seemed so familiar that I thoughtlessly scanned past her in search of new faces, figuring we’d talk at the next Alaska/Ricks/New England themed get-together. When I finally realized that the closest we got to a previous acquaintance was studying art under Richard Bird at Ricks College during two widely separated times I began to fret that maybe I’d lost to another hometown suitor. She was gorgeous with a combination Linda Blair/Lynda Carter vibe and was blessed with a cascade of light brown hair, pale blue watercolor eyes and a pert, upswept nose that easily passed for a transplant from Diana Rigg’s face

(…and yes, I did watch far too much TV)

In the vocabulary of the day she was a total fox, but she either didn’t know it or didn’t care. She was just so basically good and sweet-natured that as our relationship developed I was concerned at how she’d fare in the company of the hot-tempered, razor-tongued Celtic mob that is my extended family but that innate goodness has served as a force field against the sarcasm-that-is-graded-for-effectiveness that prevails at my family’s infrequent gatherings.

I’m frequently asked why I don’t write more often about my Beautiful Saxon Princess and why I routinely use that title instead her name – and in answer there are two main reasons for the practice:

  1. Though they are blessedly few in number I do have my detractors and I don’t want them calling her the names and making the attacks they’ve made against me.
  2. After the last forty-four years we’re almost close enough to be one word (“davidandlori”)

…and she is my treasure. Every day I am reminded that I am lucky to be with her and that I married so far above my station that I should be getting nose bleeds.

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