life

Happy Birthday . . .

Every year on this day, I hope to remember to do something special for my wonderful wife. Today is her birthday, and because it’s sandwiched between Christmas and New Year’s Day, when she was growing up she never actually got a personal birthday recognition. Her birthday was always part of the Christmas event, and every present she got was part of both.

Ever since we connected, I’ve tried to make her birthday a special, individual occasion. This year when I asked her what she wanted to do, she had no answer except to spend the day in leisure and relax. So, to mark her birthday, I’m writing this blog.

To my wife, I have this to say:

Sweetheart, in the nearly 24 years that we’ve known each other, I have known nobody like you. You have my back better than any of the Army personnel I ever served with. Love does not need to be earned, but even if it did you’d have earned it 1,000 times over. You are my soul mate, now and for the rest of my life. Happy birthday my partner in everything.

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Mailbox Blues . . .

Once upon a time, there was a mailbox that was required by the United States Postal Service to be relocated from a nice safe location to a place that was supposed to be safe for the Postal Service delivery driver.

In the first year after it was moved, it was demolished by drive-by vandals twice. After the second vandalism, the owners of the property replaced it with a 2×2 square foot brick tower to enclose the mailbox.

Yes, I’m talking about the mailbox on the home my wife and I own.

Very early Monday morning, while I was trying to recover from a series of storms that kept me awake when I should have been sleeping, I answered a phone call. It was from the local police department, informing me that a patrol officer in a marked police car had fallen asleep at the wheel while driving by our residence. She demolished our mailbox, and left debris scattered all over the southern part of our property.

The brick tower that enclosed our mailbox was built 11 years ago. It cost us $500 USD at the time, and was built by someone who had just won a national brick mason’s competition. Now, we’re having to negotiate with the USPS to get deliveries until we get the mailbox replaced. The city was quick to admit all fault in the incident, and I was contacted by the city’s insurance agent the same day with a claim number, but trying to find anyone to replace the destroyed mailbox tower is proving a challenge.

The owner of the masonry company that built the original tower is now a state legislator, and doesn’t answer his business phone very often. The other 2 masons in this area are unknown to us, and so both are a gamble on what quality we’d get.

Whatever happens, we need to get the mailbox tower replaced as quickly as we can. Fortunately, the city’s insurance agent seems to be fully onboard with taking whatever estimate we get and just paying it.

Thanksgiving . . .

Today, in the USA, is the day we designate as Thanksgiving. It is a day to give thanks for all of the blessings that we have in our lives.

At the top of my list is, of course, my wife and the home we share. I can’t imagine who I would be without her in my life. After 23 years together, everything good about my life boils down to what she adds to it.

There are others that I’m also thankful for – most of all those who are part of my life because they choose to be. I’ve often heard it said that there are two kinds of family, those you are born to and those who choose to stand with you. The next three ladies I’m going to specifically mention have chosen to stand with me, even though they have often had reasons to step away. Because they are all special, I’m just going to list them in the order I met them.

Which means, the very first is Christie. She was the first childhood memory I have outside of my biological family. My parents bought the house next door to her family in 1967, and she was not only my neighbor but a classmate. When others picked on me or belittled my small stature, she was always kind and encouraging. Even after 55 years, she still stays in touch with me, and I know I’m not always the easiest person to talk to. So, thank you. If there is ever anything you need me for, you can count on me to do everything in my power to be there for you.

The next person is the first ex-Scientologist I made friends with after my wife and I chose to leave that organization. Despite the fact that she came from a very successful family and was a respected artist in her own right, she has always related to me like an equal. Eibhlin, even though we’ve never met face-to-face, you are as much a sister to me as any of my biological siblings. Thank you.

Finally, but by no means least, is Anita. The first time we met, your grace and poise impressed me. Nothing ever seemed to fluster you. For 3 weeks you shared your home with me while your husband Les helped me confirm something about myself we were all fairly certain was true. While I’m no where near the artist that Eibhlin is, you were grateful for a pencil sketch I did of the view I could see through your windows. Since then, you’ve always been a rock that I could share nearly any concern with. You are the older sister I never had, and I’m always going to be thankful that you’re part of my life.

So, for the 60th Thanksgiving of my life, what I’m most grateful for is family – mostly those who didn’t have to be my family but have made the choice to stand with me anyway. Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

Suitable weather this weekend . . .

For the last 15 years, my wife and I have shared our home with two cats. The first one we got actually seemed to be choosing us. He was jet black, and at 6 weeks old he walked right up to my left leg, looked up at me, and let out a meow that I swear sounded like “get me the hell out of here NOW.” Of course, we had to wait another 2 weeks for him to be old enough to adopt, but he remembered us, and came running as soon as we arrived to pick him up.

Within a month, we realized that he was lonely for the company of another cat, but we didn’t understand the dynamics of feline prides (family units) well enough to prevent a mistake we made. The second cat we adopted was 1-2 weeks older than the first one, from a different mother and litter, and was also a girl. They were usually civil to each other, but Morgaine (the girl) never fully accepted Merlin as her brother.

Without any actual dates for when either cat was born, we just kept track of their ages by remembering that we picked up Merlin (the male) on Halloween.

Several weeks ago, Morgaine started having behavior trouble – making messes on the living room carpet instead of a litter box that hadn’t moved in 12 years. She also wasn’t grooming herself, and was spending large amounts of time hiding from everyone. We became worried enough that we decided she needed to see a veterinarian. Her appointment was yesterday morning.

You know how in Hollywood shows, whenever there is a funeral scene it’s usually raining? It’s been raining here off-and-on since Friday.

The news from the veterinarian was upsetting. Morgaine had developed diabetes, kidney disease, and had open wounds on her glands around the base of her tail. It would be expensive to treat these issues, and because of the kidney disease would only buy her another year, or two. After a lot of soul searching, we decided the kindest thing we could do for her was to let her go. It was about as far from easy as you can get. One of our fur babies has passed away.

Happy Anniversary to my beloved wife . . .

Today my wife and I celebrate 22 years of marriage. Yes, we’ve had our trials, and hardships, but together we’ve seen each other as partners and friends. We’ve endured through my wife having an emergency appendectomy, endometriosis, Lupron treatments, and numerous nutritional allergies. We’ve also endured through my hospitalization for a stress-induced heart attack, migraines, arthritis, and eventual weight gain that seems non-reversible.

However, I feel that I can’t fully celebrate today without fully disclosing how we got here. You see, my mother knew my wife before I did. When I asked mom about her, mom’s answer was, “Stay away from her. I’ve put too much work into getting her to join the church for you to ruin it.”

My mother and my wife both worked for the same small town community college when I became a piece of the puzzle. I wasn’t even looking for a new girlfriend – my last girlfriend had become my fiance’ just before dumping me for another man after I caught her cheating on me. I was open to making new friends, but had huge guards up against starting new relationships. So, imagine my surprise when she kissed me as I left her home after avoiding one of my mom’s Super Bowl parties.

There is more that I should share about the relationship between my mother and myself. It literally goes all the way back to my first girlfriend. Every relationship that I’ve had with a girl where my mom became acquainted with her ended with my mother deliberately destroying the relationship by any excuse she could manufacture. One girl was from the wrong side of the tracks (never mind that in our own home town my family was also from the wrong side of the tracks). Another girl was the daughter of my mother’s high school rival, and my mother had never learned to bury the hatchet – unless she was literally burying it in someones back. Over the years, I began to suspect that my mom either didn’t consider me worthy of them, or she didn’t want to ever see me happy.

And now we come to the point where I recently tried to repair my broken relationship with mom. In only the second phone conversation I had with her, mom asked me if my wife and I were still together. Please remember – my mother spent about 30 years as the wife of a minister of a Christian church, after getting the divorce from my dad that she so desperately wanted. Most Christians would applaud a long, stable, happy relationship. But, in only our second phone conversation, my mom asked me if my wife and I were still together. When I told her we were, her reply was, “Oh, that’s too bad.” I knew right away that this spelled the doom of our reconciliation, but I gave it another two months just to be sure.

When I told my wife about that conversation, my wife’s reply was, “That BITCH!” My wife knows everything about the history between me and my mother, particularly since she met me.

As much as I love my wife, and wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything, I feel that I owe all of my former girlfriends an apology. None of them deserved to be treated the way that my mother treated them. Each and every one of them still holds a special place in my heart.