It has been an incredible day. New Years has never been that big a deal for me, except in Germany in 1973 and 1974. I have never seen people shoot private fireworks like that. In the city of Dortmund in '73, the sky lit up, as if a war had begun. The explosions, however, were small.
It wasn't anything like "Shock and Awe" on CNN during the last war in Iraq.
I saw the whole thing from the roof of a high rise apartment building in the center of the city, and we could see a view of the entire area. That's what was so great about being there at that place at that time.
When a LDS mission companion and I walked home that night, there was nine to ten inches of paper on the streets from all the fireworks. It covered area of several square miles, yet the next morning, everything was swept clean.
Today's moments have rivaled the exhilaration I felt watching people shoot bottle rockets over three feet in length, each one with an engine and accompanying explosive that was bigger than a common stick of dynamite.
We began the day early, at least Ann did. I've been getting over a cold, so I've spent at least four or five days sick and unable to be much help. My immunity system will never be the same after chemo, yet I have pulled through this time without getting an antibiotic. I feel good about that, and I feel very good today. I figure staying home through this weekend will ensure that I'm
It's better that way. I knew this couple once. Just when I thought they were the epitome of a blessed married life, and after hearing them praise each other and say how perfect they both were, and how much they loved each other. I heard about their divorce less than fourteen days later.
My wife never praises me openly, not on facebook, not in church, not in public meetings, but in my darkest moments, she never left my side, and when we are alone, I see the love she has for me in those chocolate chip eyes. I wrap myself in the comfort of their warmth.
She is what made me the best I could ever imagine. Our worst fight was when she told me to stop taking worthless credits and to begin a graduate degree. Until that time, I took classes that had little or no cost, and although they offered salary incentive, they did nothing for me professionally. My Annie put me on track. It took a day to get over being angry with what she said, but she said what I needed to hear, and she said it, because she loved me.
She encouraged me to finish my BA, something that not only changed my life but altered the lives of many students I was able to affect in a positive way in class.
She made me feel calm when the "warrior" in me wanted to pursue an aggressive path, whenever a supervisor irritated me. I didn't always follow her words there. But in the few exceptions she saw me make, I soon found that she hated a couple of them far worse than I did.
But my sweetheart made me the type of person, who in spite of being outspoken at times, succeeded in everything I sought to do. She helped me feel positive about a life, that I feel so much passion for living. I savored everything I did, and I still feel that way about life.
But what I love about her most is the fact that she loves me in spite of my not being the man I was before cancer turned me into the "Elephant Man meets Nosferatu and Quasimodo."
This will be embarrassing for her to see I have written this, but what is nice is the fact that I don't frequent my blog often enough for her to notice. It will be something she will find at a time when she compiles what I have written--hopefully years in the future.
She is what makes my life so blessed.
I saw the whole thing from the roof of a high rise apartment building in the center of the city, and we could see a view of the entire area. That's what was so great about being there at that place at that time.
In the Ruhr Valley, there are no mountains--just mine structures, smoke stacks, factories.
And I hear that it is different today, or at least that was my impression the last time I visited the area in the late 90's.
When a LDS mission companion and I walked home that night, there was nine to ten inches of paper on the streets from all the fireworks. It covered area of several square miles, yet the next morning, everything was swept clean.Today's moments have rivaled the exhilaration I felt watching people shoot bottle rockets over three feet in length, each one with an engine and accompanying explosive that was bigger than a common stick of dynamite.
We began the day early, at least Ann did. I've been getting over a cold, so I've spent at least four or five days sick and unable to be much help. My immunity system will never be the same after chemo, yet I have pulled through this time without getting an antibiotic. I feel good about that, and I feel very good today. I figure staying home through this weekend will ensure that I'm
alright.
But there are several things that help me get better. Ann kept busy today. I helped her season the Prime Rib Roast. She picked up Kristin and some horseradish sauce at the store. She returned home, and I helped fill her fill the dishwasher, while she finished the last touches of dinner. She made this incredible herbal wild rice dish as a side, and bread was rising. "It's just some simple French Bread," she said.
My Annie is the master of understatement. She was not the kind of woman who would stand publicly and tell everyone that I was the greatest man in the world, except for the time she did it and made everyone in a large meeting laugh. Her comedic style and timing are impeccable. First, she does really believe that I am the greatest man in the world, but she only tells me.
My Annie is the master of understatement. She was not the kind of woman who would stand publicly and tell everyone that I was the greatest man in the world, except for the time she did it and made everyone in a large meeting laugh. Her comedic style and timing are impeccable. First, she does really believe that I am the greatest man in the world, but she only tells me.
It's better that way. I knew this couple once. Just when I thought they were the epitome of a blessed married life, and after hearing them praise each other and say how perfect they both were, and how much they loved each other. I heard about their divorce less than fourteen days later.
My wife never praises me openly, not on facebook, not in church, not in public meetings, but in my darkest moments, she never left my side, and when we are alone, I see the love she has for me in those chocolate chip eyes. I wrap myself in the comfort of their warmth.
She is what made me the best I could ever imagine. Our worst fight was when she told me to stop taking worthless credits and to begin a graduate degree. Until that time, I took classes that had little or no cost, and although they offered salary incentive, they did nothing for me professionally. My Annie put me on track. It took a day to get over being angry with what she said, but she said what I needed to hear, and she said it, because she loved me.
She encouraged me to finish my BA, something that not only changed my life but altered the lives of many students I was able to affect in a positive way in class.
She made me feel calm when the "warrior" in me wanted to pursue an aggressive path, whenever a supervisor irritated me. I didn't always follow her words there. But in the few exceptions she saw me make, I soon found that she hated a couple of them far worse than I did.
But my sweetheart made me the type of person, who in spite of being outspoken at times, succeeded in everything I sought to do. She helped me feel positive about a life, that I feel so much passion for living. I savored everything I did, and I still feel that way about life.
But what I love about her most is the fact that she loves me in spite of my not being the man I was before cancer turned me into the "Elephant Man meets Nosferatu and Quasimodo."
This will be embarrassing for her to see I have written this, but what is nice is the fact that I don't frequent my blog often enough for her to notice. It will be something she will find at a time when she compiles what I have written--hopefully years in the future.
She is what makes my life so blessed.
I read someone talk about how to choose a companion for life, and they cautioned people from looking for a soulmate. It worked out well for me, and I'm not ashamed to say that my Annie is my soulmate, my friend, my sweetheart.
She was beautiful when I married her over 36 years ago, but I think she's prettier now. She still has the chocolate chip eyes, the skin as soft as silk, the smile that warms my heart, and yes, although she occasionally "damns me all to hell," it makes me smile when she does it--except when she wakes me out of a deep sleep to do that. I have to be prepared for it, because if not, I might laugh and make her angrier at me than she already may be.
I don't make her angry purposely. That would be a mistake. See she wraps my legs every night, because of my post-chemo circulation problems, that create a lot of pain and swelling. And knowing my weakness, my "ticklish" spot like she does, if I do anything irritating at all, she'll remind me about the occurance briefly.
"So, Jonie. Do you remember what you said this morning and laughed so irritatingly?" She waits for fear to cloud my eyes, and then she grabs my big toe.
I writh and wiggle, and then I squeal like a little girl.
My grandson laughs. A smile of ultimate satisfaction spreads across my Annie's face.
It's the little things that make so interesting and fun.
But when all is said and done, I know how much she loves me.
She accepts my eccentricities. She tolerates my rage during sports events. She accepts my opinion, even if she doesn't want to hear it.
Friends do that. I was lucky to find one and marry her.
