to call her, Anne
Never called her, Anne, only the wife. How they met, learned I, not. As a young man, Spent far too many nights, playing Hearts, or Spades, at that dinner table. After Anne went to bed, Herk would share, the family lies, or were they. One tale he told, was why they wed. As a man of my age, he drank too much, smoked to much, and skirted the law. A Justice of the Peace, gave him two choices, marriage, or the army. After a bus ride, to Salt Lake, he learned, the army, would take him not. Returning then home, to marriage, and to Anne. She had come to town, to escape an unhappy, homelife. The loss of the first child, nearly broke them. Ask momma why his daughter died, replied then mom, to bring about the change. Told momma change he had not, responded momma, then his daughter's, life or death, was wasted. Thus then began, the change, still called her not Anne.
