Today is the birthday of my sweet husband, Steve. February 26 is the day he was born and this blog is dedicated to him. We met in the fall of 1996 and married on February 21, 1998. For us, every February is an extravaganza month. We celebrate in little ways throughout the month choosing from our vast array of little fun things we developed over the years. For us, a cereal party in our Florida room, little cakes baked in the shape of hearts, or dancing in the living room create big fun.
As I think about Steve and our life together, I realize all the little things add up to create this happy life we have. The appreciation I have now is not new and yet has not always been present. This year, the small gestures, the ordinary moments, and the reliability of him brings me joy.
When we first met, we fell in love with a crash. Just like so many others who let themselves go completely into emotion with another human, we floated through our lives at the time. All thoughts were focused on being together. Just being together was enough to fill us with glee and bliss. We had very few dates and certainly nothing was fancy, because neither of us had any money. The first date we shared pizza near my job at the mall. After that, we moved in together, and all of our dates were in our apartment or while visiting my sisters or his mother and aunt.
My first inkling about the importance of little things - things that cost nothing and carry great strength to bestow happiness and joy - came from the reverend who married us on our wedding day. After the opening, after the walk down the isle, and before the vows, he told Steve and me to turn and look at our guests who lined the rows of the small, non-denominational church. Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. What was this about? It was genius!
We turned slowly looking at the faces of our friends and family. The church was packed! Every seat in every pew contained the pieces of our lives. People of all kinds, all backgrounds, all ages, sitting as one unified by our union. Happiness, joy, glee, caring, and love beamed from their faces. Some cheeks glistened with tears. Our people showed up for us. The image is engraved in my mind; a gift I bring out to fill me when I am empty.
Glorious happiness filled our days as did the hardships of living. When our son Owen joined the family, our delighted state became delirious bliss. More hardship, more love, more tough times, more work, more love, and the years passed swiftly.
Until, when Owen was three or four years old, the hardship and work took hold and we forgot to appreciate the little things. We both just kept moving in states of exhaustion. Steve worked on Owen's stiff muscles many times a day and became a house dad. My job included long hours and loads of travel. I often welcomed the time away as a chance to rest. When I was home, it was Steve who needed the rest. We worked hard to find time for the two of us, but the stress kept mounting.
Our needs became more complex. I remember wishing for a grand gesture; something that would pull me out of my exhaustion. I wanted jewelry, presents, dinner at fancy restaurants. We wanted a car that ran. The kind of vehicle that starts every morning and seldom breaks down. We wanted new furniture and appliances. We wanted our own home, a safe place to live. Steve wanted to buy books and comic books at the bookstore without worrying about the money. We both wanted getaways in fun places and stays in hotels. The scarcity of our childhoods and twenties made us crave all the things "other" people had. We wanted to really live. And, we did!
I loved those days, the days of big things. The Swarovski store clerks knew Steve well. We still could not afford real gems, but the Swarovski crystals were beautiful and Steve had great taste. We traveled across the country attending AMC (Arthrogryposis Multiplex Congenita - my son's disability) conferences each year. In these places, Owen mingled with others who looked like him. Thus, we had vacations. And, Steve bought books.
All these big things came with a hint of desperation. We were desperate to catch up with the rest of the world. We desperately wanted Owen to have everything we never had. We desperately wanted to preserve our love and create a home built on love and kindness. What a whirlwind of life we have had.
Yet, it seems life brings you back to the beginning. You end at the start or start at the end. And now, I can see the little things Steve brings to our lives stacked one on top of the next building the foundation of our happiness.
Small acts of kindness. Steve does kindness well. He readily offers his healing gifts at no cost to my family. When someone reaches out with a sore back or wrenched shoulder, Steve immediately offers his warm hands.
Animals love Steve. They understand his touch is different from others they experience. Our cats and dogs (and, once a bunny) trust him to treat them well. I often wake up to hear him cooing to one of our animals. "Your are such a good girl," he says to Storm. "What a pretty girl," he says to Sky. Sky believe Steve is her husband, but that is a story for another day.
Kids and parents trust him, too. When we attended AMC conferences, Steve could often be found surrounded by all the kids. Most of them disabled, they laughed with glee when he played with them and came to him with things that needed to be fixed. The moms, who all were exhausted from constant childcare, sighed in relief at the knowledge the kids were with Steve.
He ran errands for my sister. My sister, Ann, who was homebound at the end of her life, texted Steve when she needed help. Whether it was picking up her medication, taking her to the doctor, or helping her through his healing massage, he was there for her. The bond was so strong that I often did not even know he was running errands for her. I would notice a note on the calendar, "Ann's meds" or "Pick up Ann for doctor" and ask him about it.
He is goofy and hilarious. Steve's sense of humor is sometimes visual and sometimes spoken. In the picture at the right, he hammed it up at a baby shower. Most of the guests were in another room, and the shenanigans were aimed at me. We spend much of our time laughing.
He keeps a list in his phone he named "sentence of the day" to capture funny things all of us say in our everyday banter. On occasion, he will entertain us by reading back the sentences of the day. It all started when Owen was little. He sat on the table at mealtimes, because it proved easiest for him to move his arm with his leg (an ingenious invention of his) and feed himself. During one such happening, I said, "Owen, keep your feet on the table!" The first sentence of the day. Steve said, "I can't believe the things I hear in this house every day. I'm going to write them down."
In our house, the best days are filled with words we make up. For instance, nearly everything can end with an o. Table becomes tabo, bagel becomes bago, and so on. I regularly slip into different accents usually inspired by someone on television, especially during the British Baking Show. On occasion, Steve builds on the imitations, doubling the hilarity.
He is always up for adventure. We consider mundane things to be adventures. A simple trip to the zoo or the art museum become laden with intrigue. We provide the voices for animals we encounter and make up stories about their thoughts and actions. Steve dubbed the loud cry of the peacock at the zoo to be a hilarious cry of "love" which he belts out during random activities, just for fun. He invented the mumbling commentary of the prairie dogs whose habitat was invaded by the mating peacock and peahen. Then there are the conversations we imagine our pet have.
In all cases, Steve is up for learning stuff that is unfamiliar or challenging to him. We visited the National Museum of African American History and Culture in D.C. and were greatly affected. We look forward to returning for a second chance to read all of the information. We delve into the Milwaukee Film Festival each year to broaden our experience and understanding of the experiences of others. Steve's favorite movies are often strange, little films ones we could only encounter at the film festival. Movies like "Bad Lucky Goat" and "Cat Daddies" and "Give Me Liberty" became part of our lives and touchstones we share.
He found new levels of care or me after my sister and mother died last year. During the stress of 2023, I noticed small changes in the help Steve provided to me to at any time. He brought me water in the morning. He started doing the dishes after dinner and waving me back down onto the couch with a murmured, "Just rest, honey." He covered me with blankets when I was shivering in grief. He hugged me and held me when I cried. He looked at me with a new face, one of love and concern. He felt my emotions and supported them each step of the journey in which I am immersed.
And, best of all, Steve dances with me.
In any case, we made a delicious circle of happiness.
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