Over the last four years, I’ve shared stories with you of
birth and death, sickness and health, not to mention bodily functions, birthday parties and bubbles. I’ve shared elated and somber, and all else in between,
just as is the normal flow of life’s constant waterfall.
Why I’ve done this
requires a twofold answer:
1)
To have a record of ups and downs that my boys
will hopefully want to read some day to restore memories they were probably too
young to hang onto.
2)
To scratch the left-brain itch that brought me
from Ohio to Los Angeles 15+ years ago to become the TV writer I never became.
But how I’ve done
it is a different story, and one I’ve never really talked about. It’s not that
it’s a secret, but rather I must admit that it’s only recently that I’ve
realized that I’ve taken this privilege for granted: every word I’ve published
in the last four year has been possible due to one person, and she’s known
around here as Mrs. Dude.
Today my wife Shana turned 40 years old. We were just kids
when we met, if you consider 27 the tail end of adolescence. Now a dozen years,
a couple kids, 5 homes and an incalculable amount of joy she’s brought me
later, I want to present her with a small fraction in return.
When I’ve had deadlines she’s never blinked an eye while
I’ve sequestered myself with my digital quill and ink until the task is
complete. Oh, and those incredible conferences which have literally changed my
life? My wife is the one who encourages me to go, despite my
entirely-self-imposed guilt, even knowing how much extra work it means for her
on days when I’m not home to get the boys fed and delivered to school on time
in the morning, make dinner or get them bathed and bedded for several days in a
row. Needless to say she carried and bore the two Junior Dudes, too, which are
tasks obviously way out of my wheelhouse.
And for all this, I say thank you, Shana.
Through nearly eight years of wedded bliss and stress, plus
another four of dating/engaged trepidation, I’ve been beyond fortunate to have
the world’s most calm and patient partner by my side. When I get frazzled about
being late to a 3-year-old’s birthday party, she’s the one who restores logic
to the equation and reminds me that no one will ever remember or care that we
arrived 10/20/30 minutes late. Clearly this is an unintended side effect of
marrying a math teacher.
I tend to be my own harshest critic and those moments when
she returns me to earth often make me feel not only like I’ve just discovered an
endless canteen while lost in the desert, but also that I didn’t know water
even existed.
Though I know she’ll likely not see these words, given how
hard she works at her full-time job, tutoring other kids on the side AND
co-grooming two of the sweetest, yet most devilish, boys on earth, I felt
compelled to share this for her, and for our boys, and for you to know how we
all got where we are today.
It was legendary rock concert promoter Bill Graham who once
said “They’re not the best at what they
do. They’re the only ones that do what they do”, about pioneering jam band
the Grateful Dead. Excelling at any chosen task is a challenge. Blazing a trail
and doing things unlike they’ve ever been done before requires patience, vision
and endless supplies of energy. I was beyond fortunate to hitch my wagon to
someone who has off-the-charts levels of all three and who helps instill those
traits in our family on a daily basis. For this, I am grateful and I trust that
my boys will realize someday how lucky they are to have such an incredible
mother and role model.
I’m even luckier to call her my wife.
*****************************
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