Guest Blogger #28
I think it's safe to say she knows me better than anyone else does, but then that may not be saying a lot.
Someone once said that the most effective way to lie was to tell only part of the truth. "Tell me, son: Did you take the last cookie?" "Honestly, dad, I swear, I was really THINKING about taking it, really I was, and I felt bad..." See? You can get away with a lot if you're good at it.
So Julie has gotten a lot of partial truths over the years, and it drives her absolutely crazy. You can imagine. I am a Secret Keeper.
Still, over 22 years you get to know another person.
This is her piece, though, so I'll shut up now, except to say this: I have family, friends, kids, neighbors, colleagues and readers who tolerate me, like me, despise me, love me, wish me the best, wonder about me, don't care one way or the other, etc. But there's only one person on this planet who truly wants me to be what I might have been. And as luck would have it, I married her.
Nature's Boy
By Julie Kae Sigars
How to begin?
When Chuck and I moved to Seattle twenty-two years ago, he stopped singing. He said that one singer in the family was enough.
I should have said the same to him when he asked me to write for his blog. “Sorry, honey, but you are the writer in this family.” Not that I feel I need to compete, but, as you all know, he writes so well, and I, well, I tend to ramble.
Having done the seminary thing (which probably saved my life), I know a bit more about myself. You might think that I should have said that I know a lot more about God, but God is a bit more complicated, or simple, or (ramble, ramble…) Well, this will be a lifelong process. And then, I try to get along with other people, especially the ones who share my house. This is where it gets really complicated.
The other day Beth asked me to name my favorite song. Not something to ask a person like me. “What kind of song? Art song? Aria? Country western song? Folk song? Pop song? Big Band song? Choral piece?” I don’t even have a favorite anything, except the color blue. I know that I have particular desires and needs at particular times, but that changes constantly. Beth laughed at me (how else could she survive as our daughter) and I finally blurted out “Nature Boy.” We both love the song, and attempt to sing it. It sounds pretty good in our voices, but we are both much better at other types of singing. I know I keep pulling it out and giving it another shot. I have not given up hope. And life is the journey, is it not?
There was a boy, a very strange, enchanted boy;
Chuck and I met in the Fine Arts building at NAU. I had just watched a wonderful scene that he and his friend had performed and I ran into them in the hall. I just said, “Ya’ll did a great job” or something like that. And walked off. Months later, Chuck and I began working at a dinner theater together; I have been trying to understand him ever since.
A little shy, and sad of eye, but very wise was he.
Chuck’s mom once said that she thought Chuck was probably depressed throughout his childhood. Having lived with a depressed child, that makes me very sad. But Chuck seemed to have found his way to the world through reading and the theater. Give the man a good book, with excellent writing, and he can survive another day.
And then one day, one summer day, he passed my way
In Flagstaff, while we were singing and dancing and exploring and figuring out who we were and what we were doing, I asked him directly, “What is it you want from me?” He said, “Just to love me.” I answered in a somewhat uncomfortable way, “That’s easy to do.” Silly me.
“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.”
We keep learning. Chuck is still the actor, even though he hasn’t been on stage for a long time. His writing breaks my heart and makes me laugh out loud. He breaks my heart and makes me laugh out loud. I have students who love to say wonderful things about Chuck’s column in the local paper. Sometimes, especially if Chuck is hiding in his office, wrestling with his demons and “acting” like he’s not, I will answer my students, “Yes, he writes like an angel. That’s why we let him live here.”
My brothers and sisters, I am so thankful for all of you. (I promise to not sound too preachy). You give my Chuck hope and good writing to read and friendship. You encourage him in ways that I seem to be incapable of doing. I am hopeful that some of you, (and you know who you are) take the time to really see beneath the beauty of his writing and walk with him in his real life.
Note to editor: Chuck: skip the next paragraph.
AND his birthday is on Tuesday, July 26. AND THIS MAN HAS A THING ABOUT BIRTHDAYS. HE REMEMBERS EVERY SINGLE ONE. His birthdays terrify me. Will his day be a good one? Will he bring it up several years later as “the worst birthday of his life?” Yikes! Help me! I seem to always make the same mistake each year by believing what he says he wants to do on his birthday. (Oops, He was just “Acting!”) I have made a couple of purchases that he has surprisingly enjoyed, but mostly, years of disappointment for my Chuck. SO, PLEASE, KEEP TUESDAY HOLY AND SHOWER HIM WITH BIRTHDAY PRAYERS AND WISHES. It will be our little secret.
Note to editor: Chuck you can read again.
So now that I have attempted to write for the public, I think that Chuck should begin to sing again in public. He had/has a dreamy bedroom voice; all the girls at the dinner theater would swoon when he sang “I’ve grown accustomed to her face.” I think he should join the church choir. What do you all say? At least for one Sunday.
And I will keep trying to sing “Nature Boy.” Someday, I will come close to getting it right, to sing it as it should be sung, as it deserves to be sung. Until then, we are what we are. Just a family trying to learn to love and be loved in return.
Oh yeah, in case you wondered, life is NEVER boring around here.
Thanks be to God.
11:31:26 AM 
|
