Honoring My Wife and My Great Love For Her

My wife in Mendocino November '79

If nothing else in my life I’ve learned what loving someone feels like. No one has ever loved a person more than I do my wife of thirty-five years.  One hardly knows where to start in describing her. Beauty. Kindness. Warmth. Wisdom. Wit. Sensuality. Intelligence. There’s that beautiful voice. That beguiling smile. Those warm greetings. Her culinary skills. Her understanding and compassion. Her encyclopedic knowledge of popular culture from the Sixties through today. Her political awareness. Her passion for comforting the afflicted while afflicting the comforted. The list goes on.

My wife has always wished to remain anonymous on this blog and on social media in general. I respect that wish (meanwhile I’ve been inclined to share anything and everything about myself.) Of course I’ve made constant reference to her over the years on this blog, often as “missus,” a term meant to be of endearment. 

Tomorrow is a milestone birthday for my “better half” one that ends in a zero (just the one). She wants no gifts, no special celebrations, nothing more than dinner out. This is a woman with great pride but no ego. While she takes her views seriously and has always worked hard whether in the job she’s retired from or in caring for the household, my wife has always deflected attention from her self. She is truly selfless. 

Besides being — in my estimation — the world’s greatest wife — she also has no superior as a parent. My daughters couldn’t have asked for a better more loving, supportive mother and wouldn’t, I’m sure, think of doing so.

I recall vividly the first time I saw my future wife in the Fall of 1978. “Tall, beautiful, hippie chick” was my instant assessment. I subsequently got to chat with her and concluded that she was one of those rare women who were “out of my league.” I was thus stunned when I later realized that she “liked liked” me. Rapturous. Courting her was no easy proposition for as much as she liked me, she was not ready to commit. We both moved at various times to other parts of the country (we met in Chico) me to Sacramento then Boston, she to Santa Barbara. It wasn’t until the Spring of 1985 that she joined me in Berkeley. Two years later we married, making me the luckiest man on the planet, a distinction I still hold.

There have been bumps on the road, most of my own construction. But, corny as it sounds, true love conquers all. As a couple we have survived my missteps and she has weathered my emotional struggles giving me strength, love and support. Being on life’s journey with her has been an incredible privilege and joy. 

I’m not giving her birthday present tomorrow because she doesn’t want one. I hope she will accept this heartfelt declaration of my love instead.