What attracts me in love is simple. Someone willing to do scrub the pots and pans which saves wear and tear on my already less than perfect right shoulder. Someone who loves me, in spite of myself. Someone who knows I’m less than perfect and doesn’t remind me of my faults but occasionally my limitations. Someone who looks out for my health, even when it annoys me, because I don’t do it myself. Someone who is blends his imperfections with mine making us imperfect together. That someone is my husband Dale.
I have to thank my then-best-friend Nanci (David) Klein for putting into words that which I could not.
It was May 1981 in the girl’s bathroom at Midland High School. As high school juniors, Nanci and I had excused ourselves from home economics class so I could work out a personal crisis. I was pacing the ugly tiled bathroom floor, ranting about a girl (another friend of mine) who liked Dale. I couldn’t figure out why I was so bothered, annoyed, worked up about the situation. Afterall, I had recently introduced Dale and this girl to each other. I had known Dale since I was 12 or 13. He was my cousin Roger’s best friend and since Roger was like my brother, I saw Dale often and as a family friend only.
I had never considered Dale a potential love interest until that fateful day when Nanci, sitting on the bathroom sink, stated the obvious: “You’re in love with Dale.” It was like the proverbial light bulb going on in my head. Suddenly it was so clear, weird but clear. Dale and I were polar opposites. How can this be? But I knew it was true.
Dale and I dated for three years before marrying in 1984. On July 7, 2015, we celebrated 31 years of marriage. We love our three daughters, one son, two son-in-laws and two grandchildren. We’ve battled many storms together but always come out closer. We are a team and together, we can handle anything that comes our way.