Ten years went by, and I was in need of a denim jacket more suited for the Nineties. So I bought a new jacket and Marianne asked one of her right-wing colleagues at the Bureau of Laboratories to put a bullet hole in it. (Not all gunners are conservative. But it's remarkable how many conservatives own guns.)
Alas, when her co-worker returned the jacket, he'd used a .22 and the hole was barely noticeable. So, after consultation with me, she brought it back to him and asked if he'd shoot it with one of his shotguns.
"You're planning to murder your husband and frame me for it, aren't you?" the colleague said.
But, as it turned out, Marianne wasn't, and the jacket looked great on me. Particularly when I wore it with a red shirt.
When Sean was in Central High, he was desperate to be allowed to borrow the jacket and wear it to school. But we would never let him do so.
It was the Nineties, after all, and school officials had no tolerance for anything whatsoever.
And if you're curious . . .
You can read Part 1 of the memoir here.
Part 2 here.
And Part 3 here.