I know the header for this topic is Outstanding Women, but because Father’s Day has just passed (I was out of town so I never got to celebrate it with mu husband), I thought we’d relax the rules and give the guys a shot at glory.
I’ve had a lot of really great men pass through my life: my dad, my three brothers, close friends, and teachers, and on occasion, even a passing stranger. All of which were outstanding in their own way. However, the one man who has risen to the top of the heap for me is my husband, Bob.
Before I sing his praises, let me make it perfectly clear that man has his flaws, lots of them. He deposits his shoes in the middle of the floor right next to the pile of dirty clothes; leaves my kitchen looking like a third world country after making a P&B sandwich; collects all manner things that he “might need later;” leaves cabinet doors and drawers open; snores like a big, old grizzly in hibernation . . . and the list goes on. But despite his masculine flaws, I would not trade him for “Mr. Perfect.”
Why? Because of his heart. No, he does have a heart condition, at least not one that could be detected by an EKG, and he doesn’t always wear it on his sleeve. It’s more the size of his heart where those he loves are concerned. Let me give you a couple of examples.
When I began writing back in 1985, he never said “IF” I got published. It was always “WHEN.” His faith in me, when I had so very little in myself, was astounding. Since then, he’s been at my side every minute, cheering me on, making sure my computer is working, being a sounding board for research and when I just want to whine about how unfair the publishing world can be at times.
Once, when I was attending a conference and he went with me, my roomie (he stayed at another hotel) found she’d forgotten her nightgown. Without being asked, he went out an bought her one. How many men you know would do that? But that’s him. He’s just always there when he’s needed. He doesn’t look for thanks or praise. He just takes it in stride as something he sees that needs doing and does it. That applies to me, his children and grandchildren, friends and sometimes total strangers.
I nicknamed him “The Golden Boy” years ago because everyone thought he could do no wrong. I could correct that misapprehension (she says with a sly smile), but who am I to destroy the illusion? As I told my daughter . . . I pick my battles, and having his support and love is a whole lot more important to me than closing a cabinet door or picking up his dirty underwear.
In retrospect, he’s probably not so different from a lot of the hubbies out there, but he’s very, very special to me. I’m gonna keep him.
Blessings,
Diva Elizabeth
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