Anniversary Month

I went to a football game a couple weekends ago. I know this statement alone is enough to put those who know me well into a bit of shock. So if you weren’t in enough shock already—how about this: I enjoyed it. It was a massive college rivalry game at a packed Invesco Field in Denver. This was a major event for which we had box seats on the club level—away from the drunken, painted, screaming frenzy of the more…exuberant fans. It was a great game and I even got to my feet and cheered and stuff.

AND—final shock? When a fan below me jumped up and turned around holding his triumphant fist out to me, I actually tapped my fist to his! Don said he wished he had a video of that.

The next day, feeling the great need to balance out the day before, we went to the opera here in town. A couple high school students I know were performing with the chorus, and because we seldom go to things like this, I was excited to experience the whole spectacle. The music and sets were wonderful. The guest artists AMAZING, and I was so proud of the two young students I could barely breathe. I had heard wonderful things about the typically lush costumes and beautiful work of the opera costumer, and I was looking forward to a sparkling, multi-sensory event.

BUT. The costumes for this performance were an utter and disappointing disgrace. Ugly 80’s dresses? An American circus clown outfit for Tonio in Pagliacci? Are you KIDDING me? *Sigh*. Obviously the costume designer went missing for this. There is only so much volunteer work I can do, but I may have to contact the opera director to offer my help.

Don and I have been married for 15 years this month. 15 truly wonderful years.

Even though I’m a night owl, I like to try and get up early enough to have morning coffee/chai with Don before he leaves for work. Between “putting on the browns”, checking stocks on his laptop and loading his ipod with whatever composer/artist fascinates him at the moment, we have some morning time to chat for a bit.

Today he plans on listening to more Debussy—of whom he is lately enamored. Last week it was Ravel. He looks forward to his lunch break when he can park his UPS truck in the shade, roll out his yoga mat, read Lord Byron, and snooze to his music du jour. At night he comes home and says “Honey, you’ve GOT to listen to this! It had me crying in the back of my truck today!”

I love this (on so many levels) as I get to listen to the “best of”, and hear him expound on why, despite the Heifetz hype, Michael Rabin was a violin genius of the highest level, but that David Oistrakh is a close second. And that although seeing a clip of Pavarotti’s version of “Nessun dorma” brought tears to his eyes, he felt Corelli’s version of that piece was possibly the very best ever recorded. (And yet when Don saw the clip and heard the story of BBC’s version of “Britain’s Got Talent” winner Paul Potts, who sang the same aria–he was completely delighted and moved.) Although he has a good ear and soul for music and a deep visual appreciation for art, Don voraciously studies both as an academician. Art and music are purely emotional for me and I don’t care how or why. I just enjoy excellence and genius for what it IS. We balance each other.

I love hearing stories about the people on Don’s route; the 400 pound comic book store owner with the brain of an encyclopedia and the soul of an angel, the elderly vehemently liberal couples who tend their photo-worthy gardens, and the kids in the cul-de-sac who he regularly has snowball fights with in the winter. He buys and tips outrageously at every lemonade stand he passes during the heat of the day, leaves the secretaries in the dental office laughing hysterically, and has treats for every dog on his route.

Recently he told me about a man working on the loading dock of a large company, who has the pain-filled eyes of every parent who has lost a child. This man is quiet and hard-working, and over the months of regular deliveries, Don has been able to make him laugh. Recently the man had taken his bike into a repair shop on Don’s route—and the cost to get it working again may be prohibitive. “So this may cost us a little money, honey,” Don said to me, “but I told the bike guys to just charge him for the parts and not tell him the actual amount. I am going to take care of the labor costs. We don’t go to a regular church, so I thought it would kind of be like tithing at the Random Anonymous Acts of Kindness Church.”

Don has recently discovered the Ovation channel on TV with specials on artist Andy Warhol and dancer Margot Fontaine and other artists and interests. On the weekend, he flips between that and the QVC channel where Tiffany and Marcie squeal over the virtues of no spill plastic storage containers and then chat inanely with callers who gush about the product. He laughs hard and says “Andy Warhol would get it. In fact I think he would have been proud of me for understanding how entertaining this is!”

And so I love this man—-not necessarily for reasons that HE thinks I should love him, which include being a hard-worker and a consistent regular guy. I do love those things about him–but on even deeper levels I love him for all the oddities and intangibles and workings in his incredible brain and soul that make him so….NOT normal. I love him for all his uncommon, rascally, brilliant, aware and complex ways of moving through this lifetime. I love him for his kindness, humor, unexpected outlooks, and high priorities–such as family, trust, honesty–and me. I love him for being strong enough to love someone like me, because of, and despite all that is included in the complete package of who I am. He has bravely taken on all that is me-—my sons, my family, my friends, and my own ways of moving through this lifetime.

Marrying my Don was one of the most serendipitous, yet certain decisions I’ve ever made. I am still amazed and grateful that we found each other in this lifetime.

This is how he smiled at me then,

…and this is how he smiles at me now.

:)xo

Adagio