A Letter to My Future Wife

Dear Future Wife,

I don’t know where you’ve been or where you are, but optimistic that someday we will find each other.  My high school and college friends would never have believed me had I told them I’d be searching for you through an online dating site today; many of them expected me to be happily married with kids by now…today I am over 40 with degrees from Yale and Northwestern, a successful career, and still childless, unattached.  My life has been spent helping and taking care of others, focusing on building my great career making a difference in society and completing an enviable education.  In some ways, I feel like George in It’s a Wonderful Life, except that I put my personal life on hold.  So here I am, putting it out there, I’m ready for you now, and truth be told, I’ve always been ready for you, but you just ever came along, although I still blame myself for not putting more effort in finding you earlier.

Some day when people ask me about my wife, I’d like to say that she’s beautiful and a great partner who makes me a better person!  Like all men, I’m going to be attracted to you because of your physical beauty initially; you might have caught my attention because of your beautiful smile, amazing breasts or captivating eyes, but over time, it’s the size of your heart and bubbly humor that ultimately makes me fall in love with you.  You accept me for my flaws (I’m only human…and a man after all), you appreciate and get my humor, whether it’s witty, sarcastic, or even at times perverted.  You value my honesty and know that while I might not be a big fellow at only 5’3″ tall, I have integrity, compassion and morals and I would protect you and all those I love more effectively than any giant can.  My track record of overcoming obstacles and genuine compassion for making a difference would attest to that.  I may not be the most attractive fellow, but my looks won’t break any mirrors and I’m sure our interracial kids would be adorable because they’d have their mom’s looks.  Even though you’re white, my parents would accept and welcome you knowing that you’d make me happy.  We would create and collect memories together, because that is what life is all about, rather than material things, whether it’s walking the beach, kayaking at my little lake house in Michigan, globetrotting the world to learn about other cultures or just snuggling on a cold snowy day next to the fireplace as we binge watch Netflix.  You take good care of your health and stay in shape, motivating me to do the same because we want to be around to see our kids’ grow up and start their own families; we’d create family traditions that we can pass on to them.  You are less impressed by my career or educational achievements, but more by the impact I have had on others; just as I will not care what you do for a living or what school you’ve attended (although I would always support you in whatever you want to pursue) and more impressed by your passion for something and our shared natural sense of curiosity to continue to learn and growth with each other.  It matters less where we are or end up geographically, and more important that we will be together and how we don’t let life’s challenges break our bond but rather make it even stronger.

So my dear, when you are ready for me, let me know…I am ready and waiting for you.

Patiently waiting…


Valentine’s Day Outlaw

Every year we take just one day to celebrate love and call it Valentine’s Day.  Singles dread it for obvious reasons and even couples dread it for having the pressure to “prove” their love.  The only ones really looking forward and benefiting from it are the businesses selling flowers, candies, jewelry and restaurants who inflate their prices.  Wouldn’t it be better to celebrate love the other 364 days if you truly love someone?


How you know

Falling in love is easy, staying in love is the hard part; that’s how you know you are with the right one but the majority of people today get it wrong…my parents got it right

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Mom & dad married 50+ years

The Heartache Can Wait

The period between Thanksgiving and New Year is filled with emotions, ranging from the joys and excitement of a child in anticipation of gifts to the desperate despair of loneliness of being single.  I heard this song by Brandi Carlile for the first time…and a good reminder that “the heartache can wait” as I go to my happy place…at least mentally.

The Heartache Can Wait by Brandi Carlile (click to watch)

Pair of swans in spring

Pair of swans in spring in my back yard


When you take one step back for every two steps forward, it shows perseverance; but when you take two steps back for every one step forward, you need to seriously rethink the direction you’re taking.

Gypsy charm

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It didn’t seem possible, but a theft has occurred

How easily she penetrated the well-guarded fortress that was even more re-inforced from a prior loss

In complete transparency without pretenses, clearly saying what she wanted

And claimed it as her own, what’s left of my protected heart.

Surprised, scared, excited, and paralyzed by her sweetness, I could not and did not resist.

Like a Siren her laugh and her smile were all it took to disarm me.

It was not love at first sight; these days, I trust my eyes less as I age more.

But her inner beauty was so clear, radiating out like the brightness of the sun;

Our first kiss released its intense heat, consuming me, bonding us as one.

It was not her gypsy charm that seduced me, but her gentle kindness that warmed my hardened soul.

A broken heart is worth very little, a wise surgeon will tell you it’s not worth patching after enough parts are in need of repair.

Perhaps that is why what little left that was taken has since been returned; it was merely borrowed, not stolen, as I now learned.

Should I be grateful and rejoice?  Actually, I deeply still miss hearing her voice.

I was just her lost little “squirrel” but she was my sun;

Even a simple text from her brightens my darkest days.

Alas, I shall fortify that wall even stronger, and hope the aching doesn’t last much longer.

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