Let the Good Things Happen

My husband and I met in 1961 in a bar in California, but circumstances kept us romantically apart until a year later. We both were employed and earned good salaries. We lived in a comfortable home, with two cars in the garage and all the rest. But we both loved our booze. More and more, our bills went unpaid. We began to have discussions about where all our money went. But neither of us at the time was willing to admit that drinking might be the culprit.