Deb met me and we worked together for a half a year before we became an item.
I told her I liked the Grateful Dead (a long running rock musical group) and she put a big red danger check by my name in her head. Deadheads are druggies by reputation and Gerry died due to drugs and not taking caring for himself. She had enough drama in her life with a brother with MS and a family where she was either the trouble making rebel or the dutiful daughter. She didn't need another problem person in her life. I was on the "probably not" list until she realized it was about the music for me and not the scene.
Little by little she learned more about the Dead and found that the music was less about the lifestyle and more about trying to make good, complicated music. To get her hooked, I introduced her to this tune: Rubin and Cherise (click here https://youtu.be/1YZEEQdpPzg to hear it) and it is really a pretty ballad.
I always felt that she was Rubin. She had so many friends and frequently ended a conversation with "I Love You". Men and women. That was for me a husband/wife/child/relative phrase. Not every Tom, Dick and Mary she met phrase.
Take Jav for instance. They were like siblings. I always wondered if I would be enough for her. I brought no horde of my friends to the table. I have a close group who I tend talk to every 10 years or so and haven't seen for longer than a friend would let lapse. She warmed to every friend I had and I believe they were happy that I found such a good mate.
Back to the dead, ff you follow the song, me being Cherise and her Rubin, she always came back and I was the one she exited with hand in hand. Me. She picked me. Of all the fiends she had, she picked me. And only me. Over the years I came to see that it was for real. She simply had so much to give and thrived on human interactions. She had to have all these people she loved around her. It fueled her. But she always went home with me and then I got all that attention and any insecurity I had melted (years ago, I'm not that dumb bag of hammers any more). I learned to let her be her and just not worry about all these other men and women in her life. If I just took it easy, they became my friends, after all, Deb would never pick a dud so they assumed any husband of Deb's would be worthy of being their friend. Deb made friends in minutes, it takes me a good deal longer. Perhaps for them to figure me out, perhaps because I'm naturally reticent. It is so sad that dynamic, the one who pulled me into uncomfortable situations is now gone.
Even up here in the hinterland, she found people to love. She lived to host parties. She loved to prepare for them. She loved to make sure each and every person felt welcome and fed. Yes, food was important and having twice as much as necessary was part of her welcome strategy. Those parties had the added benefit of getting the house picked up. Parties left our house in better shape afterwards. Preparty preparations always involved finding piles of stuff that had grown roots, to be moved to their proper locations. 9 times out of 10, she had an ad hoc crew of guests helping before and cleaning just before the end of the party. I can't remember a time we came down the next morning to flotsam and detritus from the prior night's fun. Of course even the cleaning had a social aspect that made packing food, doing dishes if not fun, completely social. Put 4 or 5 of them in the kitchen, especially her NY/NJ pals, and before they exhausted their stock of words, the food part of the party was spic and span.
If you were part of that, then you know. If not, you missed out.
I told her I liked the Grateful Dead (a long running rock musical group) and she put a big red danger check by my name in her head. Deadheads are druggies by reputation and Gerry died due to drugs and not taking caring for himself. She had enough drama in her life with a brother with MS and a family where she was either the trouble making rebel or the dutiful daughter. She didn't need another problem person in her life. I was on the "probably not" list until she realized it was about the music for me and not the scene.
Little by little she learned more about the Dead and found that the music was less about the lifestyle and more about trying to make good, complicated music. To get her hooked, I introduced her to this tune: Rubin and Cherise (click here https://youtu.be/1YZEEQdpPzg to hear it) and it is really a pretty ballad.
I always felt that she was Rubin. She had so many friends and frequently ended a conversation with "I Love You". Men and women. That was for me a husband/wife/child/relative phrase. Not every Tom, Dick and Mary she met phrase.
Take Jav for instance. They were like siblings. I always wondered if I would be enough for her. I brought no horde of my friends to the table. I have a close group who I tend talk to every 10 years or so and haven't seen for longer than a friend would let lapse. She warmed to every friend I had and I believe they were happy that I found such a good mate.
Back to the dead, ff you follow the song, me being Cherise and her Rubin, she always came back and I was the one she exited with hand in hand. Me. She picked me. Of all the fiends she had, she picked me. And only me. Over the years I came to see that it was for real. She simply had so much to give and thrived on human interactions. She had to have all these people she loved around her. It fueled her. But she always went home with me and then I got all that attention and any insecurity I had melted (years ago, I'm not that dumb bag of hammers any more). I learned to let her be her and just not worry about all these other men and women in her life. If I just took it easy, they became my friends, after all, Deb would never pick a dud so they assumed any husband of Deb's would be worthy of being their friend. Deb made friends in minutes, it takes me a good deal longer. Perhaps for them to figure me out, perhaps because I'm naturally reticent. It is so sad that dynamic, the one who pulled me into uncomfortable situations is now gone.
Even up here in the hinterland, she found people to love. She lived to host parties. She loved to prepare for them. She loved to make sure each and every person felt welcome and fed. Yes, food was important and having twice as much as necessary was part of her welcome strategy. Those parties had the added benefit of getting the house picked up. Parties left our house in better shape afterwards. Preparty preparations always involved finding piles of stuff that had grown roots, to be moved to their proper locations. 9 times out of 10, she had an ad hoc crew of guests helping before and cleaning just before the end of the party. I can't remember a time we came down the next morning to flotsam and detritus from the prior night's fun. Of course even the cleaning had a social aspect that made packing food, doing dishes if not fun, completely social. Put 4 or 5 of them in the kitchen, especially her NY/NJ pals, and before they exhausted their stock of words, the food part of the party was spic and span.
If you were part of that, then you know. If not, you missed out.
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