| Well, no one was too upset.
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| You know we were married in the war,
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| and I went with him to Pennsylvania and California.
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| But he went out the Pacific,
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| and I came back to Chicago to work on the railroad.
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| And we wrote letters every day,
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| which were later thrown away.
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| And God knows what we wrote or what they said,
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| but this is probably how they read.
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| I left the letters behind,
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| in the basement of the apartment building when we moved,
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| for the mice to nibble on.
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| I wonder how long they lasted.
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| And we wrote letters every day,
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| which were later thrown away.
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| And God knows what we wrote or what they said,
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| but this is probably how they read.
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| Now, at my wedding, my husband didn’t have his close family there,
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| as I indicated.
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| He came from a family of priests,
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| at least, there were a lot of priests in his family.
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| And so, 8 priests presided over our wedding.
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| 8 priests! |
| It looked impressive.
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| But it didn’t sound very good.
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| A gaggle of priests.
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| Or they were like crows around an overly ornate park bench up there.
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| They all had fine voices,
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| but — and I mean this respectfully —
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| they didn’t match pitch.
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| Thinking that each one of them was the one in the right.
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| So they made some strange note choices.
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| Listen… |