Mating for Life

Birds—they're rather human in a way. Like humans, some birds prefer a life of lascivious decadence, poo-pooing permanence for the thrill that comes with bouncing from partner to partner (looking at you, saltmarsh sparrow), while others appear to prefer a lifelong, shared existence, one built on a foundation of love, devotion, and common experience. Sandhill cranes fall into the latter category. They choose a partner and stick with 'em, through thick and thin, till death do they part.

I'm not saying one lifestyle is better than the other. No judgment here, but I've always been more of a sandhill human, akin to this bonded couple that every summer enjoys wandering the former Walnut Hills Country Club in East Lansing, Michigan, likely without the threat of citation from local law enforcement for any further trespasses on private property:When I met my sometimes-popular wife in the hills of Athens, Ohio one night in 1999, I knew I had met my mate for life. I felt it instantly, before I could even shake her hand, a love as big and pure and round and full of methane gas as Uranus! In the smallest fraction of a fraction of a second, I was undone, bewitched by the most beautiful pair of black eyes I had ever seen. Yes, her eyes set me reeling, and her accent finished me off. She was mysterious. She was fascinating. For some reason, I was convinced she was Polish. When she informed me she was in fact from Venezuela, I think she was pretty impressed by my boast, "I've heard of that."

Wherever she was from, she was dark and lovely, sure as heck cuter than some damned crane, which have long, scrawny necks, thick middle sections, creepy bald spots, and which honestly more closely resemble the author of this here blog than his wife, who I would describe as more of a fox.

We talked into the small hours of the morning in that first encounter, and any lingering doubt I had just met the love of my life was quickly obliterated. Somehow her brains surpassed her beauty. And there was stuff in common! She, like me, had scholarly and writerly aspirations. We studied languages. We shared a mutual desire to travel the world. She adored sports the way I adored mayonnaise...

Okay, it wasn't perfect, but I was in love. Hopelessly. Though she may have loved me right away too, she never, ever, not for one second, loved this shirt, which for the record was a great shirt, one I wore all the time back in '99 and still miss every day:Things moved fast after that. We met on a Wednesday. By that weekend, we were living together. Soon we were naming our future progeny, incorrectly as it turned out. I proposed in December as we swung in a hammock on a Caracas patio. On August 12, 2000, we married before family and friends on a stunning day in Peninsula, Ohio. Sure, there may have been a stubborn little suspicion as to the reason she was marrying just a kid from Akron, but that nagging voice was put to rest by a second wedding in Caracas a year later and the two decades of fun, adventure, and creativity that ensued. We bounced from Athens to New York. Colorado followed, then Akron, France, Indiana, and finally (for the moment) East Lansing.

Along the way were adventures!There were milestones!

There were close encounters with fame!In those two decades we also found time to create this...and then this...Through it all, I watched her grow more beautiful. More powerful. Every bit the goddess you see before you, blasting the cosmos with rainbow energy:My dear wife, I'm so proud of you, the scholar, the filmmaker who is breaking down walls and mentoring other women filmmakers to break down walls. More than anything, you have surpassed my wildest imaginings as a wife and mother. Today, on our anniversary, I'm still bewitched, still undone, still reeling. How blessed I am to share this journey with you. 

Now comes the part of the post where I would normally thank you for twenty years and humbly recommend we do twenty more, but I'd rather take a note from our country clubbing neighbors to the north.

Let's go ahead and make it...

for life! nwb