If she remembered, what would we do then?

This past Monday was another ordinary Monday.

And it wasn't.

My Monday schedule is pretty consistent:

Coffee with a couple of friends at 6:45 a.m. at Sands Pancake House. If we have any unanswered questions about -- well, anything -- we can always ask the fellows at the long table in the middle of the dining room, who will gladly provide several versions of responses to our inquiries.

Leave at 9:30 a.m. for the food pantry in the parish house of our little church, the church with a big heart and which provides enough food to stave off hunger to those who show up at our doors on Monday and Thursday mornings. Like I said, the church may be considered tiny by some, but ask those who go away with food what they think of our efforts at generosity.

Sometimes we have one or two hungry neighbors show up on Monday mornings. Other weeks bring out as many as 15. So far -- and we've been doing this for several years -- we can't see a clear pattern to explain this.

At a little after 11 a.m. I'm off to the casino where one of the meeting rooms in the event center has been set up with a buffet for the Rotary Club of Cape Girardeau meeting. A small group of Rotarians, known as the Early Club and mostly sporting white or no hair, eats and talks before the main group shows up. It's been that way for years. No one knows why, really, but that's the way it is.

A little after 1 p.m. I'm on my way home for a well-deserved nap.

Retirement naps are, in my estimation, the reward for getting up at 5 a.m. five or six days a week for nearly 50 years of employment.

When I first retired, people would ask me about my retirement plans. More golf? Travel? Hobbies?

My answer was simple: Anything I want to do.

Nowadays I usually say that the best part of retirement is taking a nap any time or place I want to. So far, things are working out pretty much as expected.

So, what made this past Monday different than any other Monday?

Well, let's recap. Sunday was Father's Day, and my wife presented me with two wonderful cards, one funny and one serious/mushy. I look forward to and appreciate those cards. Our two sons are not fans of greeting cards for any occasion. They telephone, Skype and send flowers on appropriate occasions, but Hallmark is not in their system.

On Sunday afternoon, my wife asked if I'd like her to prepare a special dinner I really like: Slow-cooked pork shops and mushrooms, served with brown rice and green beans. Her offer made perfect sense, because the Monday after Father's Day was NOT like every other Monday.

This past Monday, the 18th, was our wedding anniversary. So it sounded to me like my wife was proposing one of my favorite dinners by way of celebrating this special occasion.

Now, you need to know that it has been a family joke for years and years that my wife faithfully remembers the special occasions observed by relatives and friends, but she consistently forgets our wedding anniversary. Really.

Monday morning I put out the anniversary card I had carefully selected. When I got home from Rotary, I knew there would be a card from her as well.

But there wasn't.

She sheepishly confessed that she had it in her mind, for some reason, that our anniversary was Friday. Today.

Technically, my wife didn't forget our anniversary this year. She simply moved it, like the federal government does, to a more convenient day.

Like I said, this is not the first time my wife has misremembered our anniversary date. No, this has been going on for a long, long time.

Fifty-three years, to be exact.

By now everyone is used to the fact that my wife won't remember our anniversary. It's been going on so long, in fact, that it might ruin the fun if she actually got it right.

Dear wife, I love you, and I'll love you just as much today as I did on Monday. Just remember, our anniversary is June Something.

Close enough.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.