I was 33, and had been actively looking for a wife for about eight years. At that advanced age the ones I was interested in were all taken, it seemed. Or didn't reciprocate my interest in any big way.

I met a girl, just about the same age, divorced for several years. I was greatly interested, and she seemed to have more than passing interest.

On I think the second or maybe third date I took her to a rather good (as Indianapolis went in 1963) Italian restaurant. A little more than halfway through the Vitello Marsala, she leaned back and lit a cigarette.

With what I hoped was a humorous tone (exercising all my good adult judgment, indicating the plate before her), I said, "Eat that! That's money!" "Oh, I'm going to. I just thought I'd have a cigarette."

She put out the cig and ate it. What's more, she laughed. What's more than that, she married me anyway within six months, and it's been 38 years now.

Dave Oesterreich