We were married on April 21, 1979 in a ceremony at the Sunken Gardens in Brackenridge Park. It was Fiesta Week and it seemed a good idea at the time. Now, 31 years later, it still does.
We were witnessed by family and friends from the newspaper where we both worked. The county judge officiated. We threw a raucous wedding party that lasted until the next day. Never did the future seem so bright. Six days later, Ira Atteberry nearly ruined Fiesta forever when he opened fire at the start of the Battle of Flowers parade, killing two women and wounding six cops, before turning the gun on himself. And we went to work, trying to make sense of a madman’s actions. But that was still ahead when this photo was taken.
Time and circumstance has knocked some of the cocksure conceit out of my face. But Ginny still smiles easily and continues to look eagerly toward the future. She makes it look easy. We joke that every year, San Antonio throws a big party, complete with parades and lots of beer, just for us. Looking at this photo, I think maybe they do just that.
S.A. Junk 