Keely Shaye Smith and Pierce Brosnan’s love story has spanned three decades, beginning with their fateful meeting in Mexico in 1994. As they celebrate 23 years of marriage, Keely shares heartfelt reflections on their journey on her Instagram.
Keely, 60, celebrated the special occasion by sharing a post on Instagram.
She posted a series of photos from her wedding to Pierce, 71, starting her caption by noting their marriage date in 2001 and the location where they tied the knot, “August 4th, 2001, Ashford Castle, County Mayo, Ireland.”
“✨ ’You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest person I have ever known.’ FSF ✨ Happy Anniversary my love @piercebrosnanofficial ✨,” Keely continued.
Keely first met the James Bond star in 1994 at a party in Mexico, where she was on assignment as a TV correspondent.
In a 2001 interview, she described her first impression of the actor as “tall, dark, and handsome—everything that everybody would immediately be attracted to.” “He had this mischievous sparkle in his eyes. I thought, ’Wow! Wow!’” she added.
A few days later, they had their first date under the stars, staying up and talking until 3 a.m. “There were fireworks going off over our heads,” Keely remembered.
Marking 30 years since they met in Mexico, Keely wrote on Instagram earlier this year, “How could I have known as I walked around the corner and into your life that my destiny was about to change forever?”
She added, “Thanking my lucky stars that I had the courage to introduce myself to you and forever grateful for the connection and family we share 3 decades later.”
Before meeting Keely Shaye Smith, Pierce Brosnan was married to actress Cassandra Harris. They wed in 1980, had a son named Sean, and Pierce adopted her two children. Sadly, Cassandra passed away from ovarian cancer in 1991.
My Demanding Neighbor Complained to the HOA About My Halloween Decorations – The Following Day, She Was Pleading for Assistance on My Doorstep
My neighbor reported me to the HOA over some plastic skeletons and cobwebs I put up for Halloween. Less than a day later, she was at my door, begging for help. Why the sudden change of heart? Well, you’ll soon find out!
At 73, I’ve seen my fair share of life’s little dramas. But let me tell you, nothing quite prepared me for the Halloween hullabaloo in our sleepy little neighborhood last year.
I’m Wendy, a retired schoolteacher, proud grandma, and apparently, public enemy number one, according to my neighbor, Irene. All because of a few plastic tombstones and some cotton cobwebs.
“Wendy! Wendy!” I heard Irene’s shrill voice cutting through the crisp October air. I was on my knees, arranging a plastic skeleton by my front porch. “What in heaven’s name are you doing?”
I looked up, shielding my eyes from the afternoon sun. There she was, all five-foot-two, hands on hips, looking like she’d just bitten into a lemon.
“Why? I’m decorating for Halloween, Irene. Same as I’ve done for the past 30 years.”
“But it’s so…” She waved her hands around, searching for the right word. “GARISH!”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s Halloween, Irene. It’s supposed to be a little garish.”
“Well, I don’t like it. It’s bringing down the tone of the neighborhood.”
As she stomped away, I sighed. Welcome to Whisperwood Lane, where the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence unless it’s half an inch too long, of course.
“You know, Irene,” I called after her, “a little fun never hurt anyone. Maybe you should try it sometime!”
She turned, her face seething with shock and anger. “I’ll have you know, Wendy, that I know plenty about fun. I just prefer it to be tasteful.”
With that, she marched off, leaving me to wonder what her idea of “tasteful fun” might be. Competitive flower arranging, perhaps?
A week later, I was enjoying my morning coffee when I gazed at the mailbox. Among the usual bills and flyers was an official-looking envelope from the Homeowners Association.
My hands slightly shook as I opened it. “Dear Miss Wendy,” it read, “We regret to inform you that a complaint has been filed regarding your Halloween decorations…”
I didn’t need to read further. I knew exactly who was behind this.
I looked at the HOA letter again. Irene had no idea what real problems looked like.
I picked up the phone and dialed the HOA office. “Hello, this is Wendy. I’ve just received a letter about my Halloween decorations, and I’d like to discuss it.”
The receptionist’s voice was polite. “I’m sorry, Miss Wendy, but the board has already made its decision. The decorations must come down within 48 hours because your neighbor has a problem with it.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I’m afraid we’ll have to issue a fine.”
I thanked her and hung up, my mind boiling. I had bigger things to worry about than fake tombstones and plastic skeletons. But something in me just couldn’t let Irene win this one.
The next few hours were a blur of phone calls and preparations. I was so focused on my Halloween decorations that I barely noticed Irene’s smug looks every time she passed by my house.
It wasn’t until the next morning that things came to a head. I was sitting on my porch, trying to calm my nerves with a cup of chamomile tea, when I heard excited laughter coming from Irene’s yard.
To my surprise, I saw a young boy, probably 10 years old, running around with one of my carved pumpkins on his head. It took me a moment to recognize him as Irene’s grandson, Willie.
“Look, Grandma!” he shouted, his voice muffled by the pumpkin. “I’m the Headless Horseman!”
I couldn’t help but smile. At least someone was enjoying my decorations.
Then I heard Irene’s voice, sharp and angry. “William! You take that thing off right this instant!”
Willie stopped in his tracks. “But Grandma, it’s fun! Miss Wendy’s yard is the coolest on the whole street!”
I leaned forward, curious to see how this would play out. Irene’s face was turning an interesting shade of red.
“That’s… that’s not the point,” she sputtered. “We don’t need any of those tacky decorations. Now, give me that pumpkin!”
But Willie wasn’t giving up so easily. “Why can’t we have fun stuff like Miss Wendy? Our yard is so boring and ugly!”
I almost felt bad for Irene. Almost.
“William,” Irene’s voice softened slightly, “you don’t understand. These decorations aren’t appropriate for our neighborhood. We have standards to maintain.”
The boy’s shoulders slumped. “Standards are no fun, Grandma. I wish we could be more like Miss Wendy.”
As the boy trudged back to the house, pumpkin in hand, I couldn’t help but call out, “You’re welcome to come carve pumpkins with me anytime, Willie!”
Irene shot me a glare that could have curdled milk, but I just waved cheerily. Let her stew in her bitterness. I had a Halloween to prepare for and a family to celebrate with.
As the sun started to set, I was surprised to see Irene making her way up my driveway. She looked different. Smaller somehow, less sure of herself.
“Wendy?” she called out hesitantly. “Can we talk?”
I nodded, gesturing to the chair next to me. “Have a seat, Irene. Tea?”
She sat down heavily, wringing her hands. “I wanted to apologize. About the HOA complaint. I shouldn’t have done that.”
I raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
“It’s just…” She took a deep breath. “My grandson loves coming here because of your decorations. He says it’s the highlight of his visits. And I realized I’ve been so focused on keeping up appearances that I forgot what it’s like to just have fun.”
I felt a pang of sympathy. “We all get caught up in the wrong things sometimes, Irene.”
She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. “The thing is, Willie’s parents are going through a nasty divorce. These visits are the only bright spots in his life right now. And I almost ruined that with my silly rules and complaints.”
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