It’s a Friday morning in the Mile High City, and the Broncos had looked very impressive the night before in pounding the Chargers at home. The mood of the city? Good. I’m driving to the regular Friday gathering of a bunch of knuckleheads known as Platoon and listening to music. Loud. Singing to it.
A wonderful hit from the mid 1960s, “When A Man Loves A Woman” has this simple dude from Raytown, Missouri fired up. Powerfully sung by Percy Sledge, the song about a man’s heart being captured was America’s most popular long ago. Rolling Stone Magazine calls it the 54th best song ever in its top 500. A Michael Bolton remake in 1991 rose to number one as well. Great song. While bellowing it out, alone in the car, quite easily, this ol’ jock’s cranium wandered to the absolutely fabulous Kathy Gans. I married her recently.
As we prepared for wedding day, our charge to one another had been to share with those attending, through our vows, why we love one another. The Chicago native went first and just blew me away. Then it was my turn.
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways” is the opening salvo of the famous poem written long ago, back in the 1800s, by a woman named Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Why do I love my amazing bride so dearly? There are many reasons. As daughter Rachel pointed out in her outstanding wedding toast, “Dad usually finds a life lesson in everything.” The high school senior is right. Here’s this week’s: we have a choice in life. Yep. We have a choice to operate from fear or wonderment. Choose wisely. It sure helped me, as one buddy said, “Hit the jackpot.” A bilingual friend taught me, “Me case con mi muneca!” If I didn’t butcher the translation: “I married my sweetie pie!”
It took awhile.
More than a decade ago, the staffing executive and I were sitting in a popular Denver eatery. It’s known for its tasty Mexican food and lively atmosphere. If memory serves me correctly, it was our second date. A twice-divorced sportscaster with a darling child from each union and a never-been-married business leader in the very early stages of getting to know one another.
As we settled into our chairs a waiter zipped by and plopped menus, chips and salsa before us while heading to serve others in the crowded restaurant. I can’t remember exactly what the brown-eyed girl and yours truly were discussing but, as usual, the conversation was lively.
A short while later the waiter returned, ready to take our order. I instantly blurted out that my date had not had a chance to look over the menu. I was quickly corrected. “I know what I want. Tacos al carbon.” Well, that statement made a guy trying to forget the past a little nervous, considering that’s exactly the food item, and manner, the first former spouse and devoted mother to my son would order when we visited the popular establishment long ago.
Things got even more interesting a few minutes later when, as is customary in the early rounds of dating, the topic of conversation turned to birthdays. “Mine is May 10th,” announced the wonderful spirit. At that moment primal instincts were conflicted. Time to flee? Within the first ten minutes of our second date it had been discovered that this attractive and intriguing woman shared the same palate preferences as the first former and the same birthday as the second former and mother to my daughter. Was it a sign? What to do? Was I going to allow fear or wonderment rule the day?
I’m so darn glad to have chosen the latter. What man in his right mind would run from such a beautiful, fun and smart woman? More than a decade later, what has become so apparent about this darling human being is a powerful fourth trait that takes a back seat to none: a gigantic and compassionate heart for others. In practicing vows before the ceremony, many times I would burst into grateful tears that she opened that heart to me. I’m a lucky guy.
Our wedding. What an absolutely magical evening. It ended with being surrounded by an overwhelming outpouring of support. Loved ones who stayed till the end, as the band played its final song, Sinatra’s “Fly Me To The Moon,” would move in unison toward us on the dance floor. The rush of people began gently but eventually, in good-natured fashion, turned into a version of an old folks’ mosh pit. It was incredible.
So too my love for her. This wasn’t in the lyrics of the hit song recorded a half century ago at Norela Sound Studio in Sheffield, Alabama, but when a man loves a woman he’s smart to allow wonderment, not fear, reign. What about you? Home? Work? Elsewhere? Sitting on the fence pondering your next move? Go for it. Take that leap into the great unknown.
It sure worked for this blessed knucklehead and might work for you, too.
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