48.

Today would have been my parents 48th wedding anniversary. My parents marriage survival rate was something of a unicorn in and of itself.

My mother was the debutante daughter of a prominent lawyer. My father the son of an office worker. My mother traveled the world. My father traveled the country with the Tommy Dorsey band. They couldn't have been more different, yet something about them just worked.

My mother was the consumate hostess, my father, the artist, came with his gaggle of colorful friends.

My father was a musician (composer and arranger) and as such worked from home. He had his office in our basement and would write music down there and come up to be fed. My mother called him the mole man.

When they first married my parents traveled the country buying cattle for Mr. Branson, the namesake of so many Midwestern towns. It was after my mother found herself living in a double wide with a party line...youngsters you'll need to look that up, that my father left the cattle business and came to New York where he once again immersed himself in the music business and slipped back into the role of composer and arranger that would continue for the rest of his life.

Having no immediate family around always meant Christmas would be interesting. My mother was a fantastic cook and my father always invited lots of different musicians for Christmas dinner. Their stories were fascinating.

My fathers career also meant quite a large group of friends from all colors, creeds and walks of life. I loved hearing their stories. I was always the only child at the table since my parents friends either had no children or they were older. I always felt so special sitting at these dinner parties, hearing these wild stories.

As I think back now I wish I had asked my Dad more questions but he was just so humble I never thought to, I regret that terribly. In fact, upon his death, I was floored when Nancy Regan herself wrote a personal letter to my Mom thanking my Dad for writing the music in 'Morning in America' for Ronnie.

My parents loved to go to fancy restaurants to celebrate their anniversary or hit up a Jazz spot to hear friends play. On one occasion my mother lamented that while eating at Eric Ripert's place, JFK Jr was at the table next to them. She fondly recalled she had the best seat in the house looking at my Dad and JFK Jr.

So on this second day of December, I hope my parents are together somewhere wonderful and have the best seat in the house.

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad. I miss you both so very much.

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