Lucky Man

ELP penned a song called "Lucky Man." And while the lyrics are not an exact fit, that's how I feel as Husband, to my Wife Teresa.

Yesterday was her birthday. I won't tell you how old she is, but she is younger than me––which she reminds me constantly after I have my birthday until she has hers. So, yeah, I'm married to a younger woman. Robbing the cradle. Running a day care. Living with a trophy wife. All of those cliche's.

Usually, I would write an ode or post on the day of my most loved ones B-Days. (And usually my posts have something to do with cancer––which this does, in a roundabout way). But I didn't want to take any time away from Teresa, any more than I have to because of work or getting to and from the job. I wanted to spend every moment I could with her on her special day. It was her birthday, but I was getting the present. I was getting a chance to spend one more day with Teresa, getting to see her, touch her, just BE with her. There was no other place I would rather be.

I am still amazed to this day with how much I love this woman. It may sound like a Hollywood movie script, but I remember the circumstances that lead up to me meeting Teresa. I just got a job in the mailroom of a really hot ad agency, Chiat/Day, in Los Angeles. I didn't know this agency was THE place to be, because I just needed a job and I didn't care what I was going to do. I was getting thrown out of my rented house––owner was selling the place––I was working as an inside sales assistant at a drapery manufacturer––"do you want those pin pressed and fan folded?"––and I had just broke the chains of a relationship with a psycho-bitch who put the "freak" in "freaky". (And I'm not talking about hip-hop freaky. The "boiling a rabbit on the stove, Fatal Attraction kind of freaky). Yeah, what a catch I was making $850/month, working in the mailroom and getting ready to sleep in Griffith Park for the next 5-6 months.

I was stopped at a traffic light at 5th & Grand Ave. in Downtown L.A., in  the Chiat/Day company pick-up truck on my way to drop off some film to get developed. I put my hands up in the air, looked up towards the headliner of the truck and screamed, "Dear God, please help me out here. Can't you send me a normal woman who I won't have to sleep with one eye open anymore?" (See, sounds waaaaay too Hollywood-esque). So after I came back from my messenger run, I took a walk around the office. As I got to the back of the place to check and see if the Coke machine needed re-stocking, I saw her. She turned around just as I turned the corner. Our eyes locked. I smiled. She said, "hi." Not hello. Not hey. Didn't turn away. Just a "hi" and a smile back. I knew right then and there––I had to get to know this woman. And I had to move fast. Was it by chance? Was it fate? Was I just at the right place at the right time? Was I lucky?

Yes, yes, yes, yes. Happy Birthday, Teresa. You give me presents every day, whether you know it or not.