This is inspired by some really nice things that Ron wrote about me and because I want my friends and family to get to know the terrific guy I was lucky enough to marry.
First of all, no one is more surprised than I am not only to be a married woman but to be married to the one man to whom I feel a profound psychic and somatic attachment, attraction and almost eerie compatibility.
We met when we were 23 years old. In fact, Ron’s the only other adult I’ve ever lived with.
I wish I could say that he’d been my first love because there’s no doubt he would have been romantic and considerate. He wasn’t the first, but he was the best.
We have a number of common interests and find it easy to talk with one another about a variety of things, from the mundane to the philosophical.
My big regret is that we missed out on sharing so much between late 1969 and 2010.
The biggest of course was seeing Peter grow up and the grandchildren when they were very little.
Ron had a number of great experiences, too, and I would have liked to have been a part. These would have included being his helpmate during his active working years, his participation in bands as a guitarist and washtub bass player, and his immersion in hippie culture, especially the Rainbow Gatherings.
It’s a strange feeling to know that he lived with several other women, including a wife and a common-law significant other, during those years.
It’s disturbing to know that except for a couple of “ships passing in the night” scenarios, he got very little from these couplings aside from a pocketful of woe – no kids, no property, no assets other than a few pieces of jewelry and maybe a shirt or two.
I think I would have been better for him and he for me. I think we would have been a better couple than some gave us credit for.
There are a lot of things I like, respect and admire about Ron.
For one thing, we are not in a celibate “friends with benefits” relationship: I think he’s hot. He has a tempered, subtle machismo, and I’m not sure he’s even aware of it. He’s competent in areas that I am not although I’d like to be, traditional guy things like firearms, carpentry, camping.
He’s bright and self-disciplined, having overcome alcoholism and addiction to cigarettes.
He knows how to live very abstemiously, but still shares generously with others, including me and the grands.
He has a strong sense of family and is intensely loyal to friends. His friends love and respect him and are protective of him, which says a great deal for the man.
He’s funny. He can make me laugh. He’s a good sport.
He has a strong social consciousness and a solid historical perspective on the labor union movement, Civil Rights and feminism.
He’s musically talented and his musical tastes and knowledge are both deep and wide-ranging.
He’s humble and non-chauvinistic, giving credit to me when it’s due but having enough of a spine to not cave when he disagrees.
He’s patient. With my defenses down, I had nightmares for days, reliving many, many years of horrible abuse from old boyfriends, old coworkers and old bosses. Ron saw me through that black period of tears and rage, providing reassurance and stability.
Ron is physically as well as psychically tough, enduring pain and discomfort stoically. He takes on tasks that other people would whine and complain about – like driving us from Berkeley to Reno and back in the same afternoon/evening.
He’s a solid guy. To be honest, when we started on our trip to Reno, I didn’t think he’d go through with the ceremony. I wore jeans and a decent but old sweater and sneakers. I hadn’t been feeling well for days (turns out, I had a UTI) and when we got to the chapel, just wanted to park myself in the restroom.
The same couple that had registered at the Washoe County clerk’s office ahead of us pulled in to the Chapel of the Bells parking lot as we were walking up to the door. So, instead of skipping to the loo and possibly causing us to lose our place in queue, I decided to tough it out and wait for the minister to start the civil ceremony we’d requested – again, figuring Ron would call it all off anyway.
At times, I am a spectacular jerk.
Ron said his vows with tears streaming down his face. Moved to the core, I unconsciously davened through my part. Seeing Ron’s loving face, it was easy for me to repeat the vows to him, and I meant them with my whole heart.
Afterwards, I asked the minister for a copy of the ceremony, but he said he couldn’t provide one because he never says the same words twice.
We left Reno immediately after the ceremony and stopped for a light supper. It was cold and the deicing tubes attached to the wipers had frozen. Fortunately, the roads were dry, so after cleaning off the windshield, Ron was able to drive us safely back to Berkeley and our “honeymoon cottage” in Elmwood.
So, that’s a bit about the man I married. I feel more than lucky and more than singularly blessed. He’s the father of my son and the love of my life. It’s enough to make me believe in miracles.