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A Gratitude Bouquet for my Husband
Short and sweet, dear Ricochet friends.
Having read your essays this past month as they revealed lives of courage, hardship, mind-boggling talent, empathy, humor and love – well – I’m grateful – and humbled.
So let me be brief. My husband saved my life. My gratitude for his love and support has bloomed beyond my imaginings as the years have passed. We were young and from very different family cultures. As the second of seven children beneath a very brilliant and driven older sister — I was rather lost, directionless and drifting, I shared an apartment with her and my kid brother during my second year of college. On a Saturday afternoon my big sister took me on a tour of the med school anatomy lab. My future husband and I met over a cadaver. Love at first sight.
His father was a Baptist minister who fought our marriage. He told me that my husband knew better than to marry a Catholic. We married, anyway. It wasn’t always smooth-going, but we struggled and grew together like the trees you’ve seen whose trunks and branches become indistinguishable, one from the other, over the years. We raised our son (yep — I gifted him with a Ricochet membership) who has made us so proud as we’ve watched him help tease apart a few of the mysteries of the solar system.
My husband’s support of our little family and my broader wonderful family at large, created a life that I’d never dreamed possible. The family sharings and laughter throughout the years rest on the bedrock of his sacrifice and hard work.
He’s made it possible for me to indulge my love of wandering through the natural world and to procure the series of cameras ( film and processing were required back then!) and the leisure hours to record the beauty around me.
There’s so much that fills my heart as I look across the room and watch him cheering his OSU football team.
Yes, he played the tuba in The Ohio State Marching Band. (That’s really the reason I married him.)
I brag on him all the time. And thank him every day for my good life.
I am grateful.
Published in General
It was a bad spot, you know it, I know it, the whole world knows it.
Trink,
Seems a small world that my orbit has crossed, but not collided, with not one but two astronomers who reside here on Ricochet (Tim H. is the other one). I’ll keep my eye out for your NHU boy….Looks like I have worked on a few of his “sensors” based on his home page.
III
No Waaaaay! Awesome !
Don’t. Stop. Don’t..Stop. Don’t stop…. I’m already drunk on the tears of the Left. I’ll have to check-in at Betty Ford if Michigan fans keep up the boo-hooing.
That was really lovely, Trink.
Well, that was sweet Trink.
Yes, we did the same thing! I had to wait for my wife (my groupie from college too!) to find my original shirt (front/back):
Even nerdier mode on… ;-P
Lovely piece, Trink! I am grateful for my husband, too. Sometimes I’m not the chipperest sort, and that can be a little hard on him. But I am always grateful.
My grandfather played the Sousaphone!
Oh, pish. I was a Marching Illini sousaphone player, but when we played in the Harding Building, we played tubas.
My grandfather played the Sousaphone in John Philip Sousa’s band, and Sousa wrote a solo for him. After that he played bassoon in the Houston Symphony Orchestra. Or was it the tuba.
Yes, but did he ever dot the “i”???
Funny moment at Chez Rattler:
Mr R: Well, I brought home the bacon and started the fire.
Mrs R: And I burned the bacon on the fire!
No waaaay!!!!!
@Percival and @rightangles,
I checked on Google Earth and the Harding Building is still there. It holds the Sousa Archives and Center for American Music.
Freaky!
I looked for the Sousaphone shed (where we kept the practice instruments) but I can’t find it. Probably got pulled down when they messed with the South Quad. The Carillon (is that what they call it?) is in the center of our practice field.