Tuesday, January 26, 2010

My Benevolent Benefactor

Sometimes I just have to remind myself how truly blessed I am. I know that all good things come from God, but they generally come to me through the people in my life. For forty-six years, Richard worked without help from a wife. He saved his money, and kept hoping someone would notice him.

My best friend from high school worked with Richard and thought he was a lot of fun. She decided it was time to find him a wife. After a few false starts, she introduced him to me so I could teach him what mistakes he was making in the dating game. I never did teach him how to play the game because I kept him for myself.

Because of Richard’s hard work, we have a very comfortable life. I woke up in a soft, warm bed this morning, even though the outside temperature is in the twenties. I’ll luxuriate in warm water caressing my skin as I shower. My transportation to wherever I want to go has safe brakes and tires, and Richard just had the oil changed. When I purchase food, fuel or clothing, I never have to worry about paying the bill when it comes.

We take joy in helping the young families with an occasional gift of cash, which was earned and saved by Richard. When I invite more people to eat at our table than our house can handle, Richard is the benevolent benefactor. I may have a computer, the internet, and a telephone without Richard’s generosity, but I sure wouldn’t have the time or energy to write after all day on my feet in some restaurant or catering kitchen.

I’m not yet old enough for tax-payer funded healthcare, or social security, but I am in the fortunate few that don’t have to labor all day outside the house to pay for health insurance or my living expenses. I’m cradled by the quiet all day and night because we don’t have to live in a hub of commerce in order to find meaningful work. I don’t have to lug laundry to town to find a washer and dryer. As I sit in my pajamas in front of a fire, I can be back and forth to the kitchen cooking and cleaning my clothes.

We hear about artists who had patrons to keep their bodies and souls together as they created. I couldn’t have published Jack’s book without Richard’s backing, and now we’re embarking on Jack’s second title.

Richard may ride around in an old Bronco II instead of on a white horse, but he sure saves me from a much more mundane life. And Elaine was right; he is wise and witty. Is it any wonder that I go ballistic when I fear for Richard’s life?

What more could a woman want? It’s amazing to me that I can still be cranky.