Sometimes, just for kicks, I introduce my wife (of 32 years) as, "And this is Carol my first wife". We get all sorts of amusing responses like, "Oh, it is good to see you're still friends", or, "Oh, are you back together now?"
Now for my embarrasing moment. Just about 20 years ago I went to a shopping mall in downtown Bridgeport, CT to pick up a suit I had ordered. Being new to the area I didn't know that after dark this mall became a heaven for all sorts of pretty bad people. I parked my car in the dark and dirty parking garage, took the elevator to the floor where the clothing store was, got my suit, and began to retrace my steps. As I got into the elevator and the door was slowly closing, a big, black, scared, hairy hand reached in to pull the door open as a huge, dirty, foul-smelling, person entered. I froze in place as we found ourselves alone in the interminable long ride to destiny, all the while thinking of what I should have done if only I had the courage. Suddenly, a sharp radio message something like, "Sandy Four-zero, this is Delta-Six" pierced silence of the elevator. As I stared in disbelief, the gentleman smiled at me with golden tooth as he reached for his walkie-talkie and said, "Yes, I'm a cop. You looked like you may need some help." He followed me to where I had parked and waved a friendly goodby as I drove off into the night. What made this so embarrasing, so humbling, is that I had just recently retired after 20 years as a Marine Infantry Officer. I still thought myself to be invincible and impregnable to fear. Little of me did I know.