The Gold Rush rolled us up like an avalanche over a Telluride mine, depositing giddy excitations and lusts in our hearts for new things. I begat a mind to wander. Newly ordained, I stayed on to pronounce two friends, Bob and Sheri Larcom, man and wife, in a ceremony up at Red Rocks outside Denver — then lit a shuck out California way.
Fell in and rode a few spells with the Daniel Golden Gang. We sat for this tintype in Balboa Park as a wedding party where I was appointed to minister the marriage sacrament for, best I recall, a dance hall belle and Paul, a bartender at a saloon in downtown San Diego. Y’all see I’m the only one not carrying a cannon — just the Good Book tucked in my arm? Looks like ole Pete has a bead on my privates with his shotgun, case I had designs on absquatulating, I guess.
Turns out on the day of the wedding, I did something I shouldn’t have been doing in a place I shouldn’t have been that caused an event that shouldn’t have happened. A minister outside the Gang had to step in and perform the marriage service in my absence. I reckon Daniel and the others never forgot me for that.
Great Wayne! Thanks for sharing. Jeff Emil
Hey old friend, thanks for taking your time to stop and read my little ditty and leave me a message.