By: Travis Naughton
Happy Anniversary, Mrs. Naughton On August 4, 1996, Bethany and I recited our wedding vows to one another in front of two witnesses, (Bethany’s twin sister Charla and her husband Doug), and a preacher who forgot my name. “Do you, Michael, promise to take this woman in the bonds of holy…?” “My name’s Travis,” I sheepishly whispered to the minister. “Travis, Michael—whatever,” he said as he continued with the service, as if it truly did not matter at all what my name was. I felt like it actually might matter, because if “Michael” married Bethany, then she may be able to get out of this whole thing on a technicality. Nevertheless, after 25 years of marriage, I’m reasonably confident that the statute of limitations has expired by now. I’m afraid that poor woman is stuck with me for better or worse, as long as we both shall live.
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