That's how our story came to be

My earliest recollection of Deb Kamlot is during a Chronicle staff meeting.

It was one of those early morning come-to-Jesus gatherings that Publisher Gerry Mulligan was well-known for in the building.

Gerry was soliciting ideas. Deb, Human Resources director at the time, took notes. More than that, her sense of humor eased us all dealing with a grumpy boss.

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I remember sitting there thinking, “That Deb Kamlot’s kinda cute. I wonder what her story is.”

Her story is now our story.

Today’s our wedding anniversary, No. 8. The only reason we know the date is it’s exactly one week before Christmas.

We wedded in the Chronicle lobby. Before I go there, some history:

I was at work one day when God tapped me on the shoulder. Some people know exactly what I’m talking about.

“Hey Mike,” God said. “Go ask Deb out.”

I said: “Nah, God, that’s really not a good idea.”

God was persistent.

“No, serious, it’s OK.”

I’m not sure why God wanted to set me up for humiliation. I was three years removed from a divorce, and each date since then fell closer to “catastrophic” than “romantic.”

Deb? No way she’d go for me. Smart, successful, attractive — three things I’m not.

I wandered into her office. It was late Friday afternoon. I doubt we had exchanged 10 words prior to that day.

“Um, I know this is unusual, but, um, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“Sure!” she said, writing her phone number on a sticky note. (I still have the note.)

And thus began a life of romance.

Uh...no.

Turns out when Deb said, “Sure!” what she really meant was, “Sure, I’d like to torture your soul for the next several months, to the point that has you, at times, questioning your own existence.”

It wasn’t that bad, but I pursued Deb from February till July. Each year, the Chronicle has a booth at the Citrus County Fair. The signup sheet was outside Deb’s office. I signed up to volunteer with her at the booth, and when she saw me sign up, she’d scratch out her name for another slot, and then I’d scratch out my name for the slot that she moved to.

Somehow, that didn’t result in a restraining order. Instead, we worked the fair booth together and Deb had a glimpse that maybe I wasn’t so bad, after all.

I finally wore her down, and on July 13, 2009, we had our last first kiss.

A few years go by, and it’s engagement time. Guys, we all know the engagement is the ultimate surprise, the one that cannot be flubbed under any circumstances.

I went to see Mulligan and told him my plan of asking for Deb’s hand during the Chronicle Christmas party. 

I said, “I don’t care the reason, but you need to have one of your pep-talk company meetings that we all look forward to. As you finish, ask, ‘Does anyone have any questions?’ and I’ll say, ‘Yes, Gerry, I have a question to ask.’”

The day came for the company meeting. I wore a tie. That should have tipped Deb off that something was up.

Gerry did his spiel and asked if anyone had any questions.

“Yeah, Gerry,” I said. “I have a question to ask.”

I walked over toward Deb, who looked at me like something very embarrassing was about to happen. I dropped to one knee and pulled the ring from my pocket in front of 70 co-workers.

Now. As sure as I could be, I knew Deb wanted to marry me. We talked about engagements, and she was on guard for surprises.

But there’s always that terrifying moment after, “Will you marry me?” hangs in the air, and then Deb said, “Yes!” and all was great.

After several months discussing a wedding locale, we decided on the Chronicle lobby. It was much sweeter than that sounds. We closed the office for 20 minutes, Gerry walked Deb down the aisle, and Pastor Ray Cortese of Seven Rivers Church married us.

That was eight years ago today.

Happy anniversary to my lovely wife. Here’s looking at 80 more.

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