Square & generous with all

Making the 4-hour trek to Rochester yesterday, I enjoyed the company of one of my favorite men. Kinda kitschy in my book, I never took him serious. How could I with those fruity trumpets tooting in the background as he sung of some blazing ring? But John has been a long-time friend to my husband (and I try to give my husband's friends a chance).

When Marty and I began dating, it was common for me to drive up to his cabin only to find John had beaten me to the party. Singing about bibles and rusty cages and Tennessee Studs, John's camp and silliness gave way to deeper meaning. Kinda like my interest in Marty. From some goofy RAGBRAIer, I began to glimpse the true depth of my future husband's character. The more I listened to Marty's friend, the more John's soul revealed itself, also revealing Marty's. I started to hear the raggedness of John's spirit, the longing for spiritual peace, and I slowly began to understand how medicinal such sharing was to my husband's love-torn soul. We met only months after his first marriage had ended.

Marty is a man of few words and amazing strength of character. Now before you go thinking he's some quiet sage all bearded and zen, know that he's not lost his wild, irreverent side. For instance, his favorite cuss? Jesus Fuck! Can you believe that?! (And people think I'm going to hell?)

Anyway, as I've journeyed with my dad through this cancer business, Marty, in a way all his own, has been with me, unswerving in his support. Two weeks ago, when I left to accompany Dad for his surgery, we had no idea it'd be 7 days before I'd return home, and without Dad! Could Marty have been a prick? Would he have been justified in being pissy? Hell yeah! But was he? Not only did he back me 100%, assuring me I was doing exactly the right thing, he even had the kids make get well cards for their grampa. And when I did get home, did he dump the kids on me and run for some Marty Time? Nope, he continued to man the home front while I bumbled around. Never once did I pick up even a whisper of exasperation. Amazing.

So where does 'John' fit into all this? Yesterday, when listening to his 1994 album American Recordings I found myself paying close attention to the song "Oh, Bury Me Not" and how much it personified the essence of my husband. Specifically, the following lines:

Just let me live my life as I've begun

And give me work that's open to the sky

Make me a partner of the wind and sun

And I won't ask a life that's soft or high

Let me be easy on the man that's down

Let me be square and generous with all

"Let me be square and generous with all" absolutely speaks of Marty. How I could ever warrant a 10th of this man's love, I'll never know. Back when we first met, Marty and I both agree there was something crazy spiritual about our connection. And yet I was still a drunk, always on the look out for something different, something better and I would pray at night, "Please God, don't let it be Marty. Please!" But God, Buddha, Allah, Vishnu, whatever the hell is out there, knew what they were doing. Where the reward is for poor Marty, I don't know. For me? It's him. And I love him somethin' fierce.