What do I say about Mr. Jackson? He has an endless list of fine qualities. He is kind, sweet and gentle, yet if someone were to harm me or even attempt to mean to do me harm, I have very little doubt he would feel compelled to pull them limb from limb. He wouldn’t actually do it, but he would feel as though he should. In truth, he would probably not even speak harshly to them, but he would seethe inside while suppressing his more violent urges. It would be against his in-bred Scandinavian nature to actually confront anyone in any way. His temperament revolves around the adage: Don’t rock the boat. It is his creed by which he lives. His nature has rubbed off on me after many years together and that is both good and bad.
Why I love him? Well, why not? He is vastly more intelligent than me, has a head for numbers that exceeds what humans should be able to do without a spreadsheet. His mind contains more useless knowledge than anyone should really possess, particularly in the fields of sports or any sports-related minutiae. (He is light on literature, ballet and classical music. That’s how to trip him up in a game of Jeopardy.) He’s a fanatic to the end and refuses to give up on his team no matter how much they let him down. Above all, he genuinely cares about people, regardless of their race, color, creed, abilities, sexuality or gender identity. He’s loyal to a friend no matter how long it may have been since he has seen or spoken to that friend.
He’s a slob, personally and probably professionally. It’s okay because he knows he’s a slob. Did I mention that I he has the inability to throw anything away? If I didn’t keep on him, I have little doubt he’d be the key subject on the next episode of “Hoarders”. His clothes are often dis-shelved, in desperate need of ironing, untucked and ruffled. All his slobbish tendencies make up a big part of who he is. He’s completely and one hundred percent authentic. He doesn’t care what someone or something looks like. He doesn’t even notice or acknowledge a lack of neatness, glossiness or embarrassment. They don’t exist to him. He’s oblivious to the other things that people make into a huge deal. Again, that’s both a good and a bad thing, but no matter what I look like, under what kind of whacky circumstances my physical appearance or mental stability has been tested, I know he is there beside me and truly sees me as a beautiful person, both inside and out. Sometimes he’s wrong in that vision, but that doesn’t change how he sees me.
He’s not perfect, far from it, but he is my teddy bear. He’s the personification of good in this world and for that I love him. It also doesn’t hurt that he worships the ground upon which I walk. That’s a pretty good reason to love him in return. Today is the fourteenth anniversary of our marriage. After all these years, I’m glad we are together. I’d do it all over again.