John is a kind, gentle soul. He worries about lost puppies and famine and his children and lots of other things.
John likes to speak his mind, and is not afraid of confrontation. He loves to learn new things, but at the same time he can get very stuck in his old ways and act stubborn.
He is always ready to say something generous about my drawings. Patiently, he tries to teach me stuff about perspective, and light and shade, and how to work with different materials. And I've learned that he pays a lot of attention to everything. He notices details, things like how the sun shining on a wall can make it look more or less attractive... or how beautiful somebody's eyes are, even if the rest of the face is not... or how a smile can also be sad. He taught me how to draw bunnies legs and cats sitting. He likes my elephant and laughs when I ask him to shave off his beard and mustache, 'cause they're too hard to draw. He is my most supportive friend, the one I trust to show even my most rotten attempts at creating a thing of beauty.
He teaches me stuff about religion, and cooking, and car mechanics, and the US, and music, and all kinds of other things.
John cries a lot. And laughs a lot. He quit smoking almost a year ago, a supreme act of courage and love I simply did not believe he was capable of. I like that in him - the fact that he can still surprise me. (Let me just interrupt here to tell you I've been writing this for quite some time now. I write stuff, then edit it some time later, then write some more. OK, that being said, I can tell you about yesterday. Listen.) Something happened yesterday, and John surprised me again. We were in the car, and he was taking me to work. We've been having huge money problems, so morale has been quite low in our household. I started telling him that despite our financial issues, I really thought we should invite our friends over for birthday pizza. And just as I started to tell him my reasons, he replied: 'Yeah, maybe our problem is that we've been too sad. We don't celebrate much. We are not grateful... to God, to life, whatever you want to call it. ' Celebration of life. Gratitude. Change of attitude. My thoughts exactly. I was amazed.
So then I screwed up and got caught doing other things and did not publish this yesterday, like I meant to. Anyway. This post is my tribute to John's brave spirit, and his courage, and his love for our life together. It's been a year since he stopped smoking. Atta boy. So John, my dear, come up to the stage and take a deep bow. We're applauding.
John likes to speak his mind, and is not afraid of confrontation. He loves to learn new things, but at the same time he can get very stuck in his old ways and act stubborn.
He is always ready to say something generous about my drawings. Patiently, he tries to teach me stuff about perspective, and light and shade, and how to work with different materials. And I've learned that he pays a lot of attention to everything. He notices details, things like how the sun shining on a wall can make it look more or less attractive... or how beautiful somebody's eyes are, even if the rest of the face is not... or how a smile can also be sad. He taught me how to draw bunnies legs and cats sitting. He likes my elephant and laughs when I ask him to shave off his beard and mustache, 'cause they're too hard to draw. He is my most supportive friend, the one I trust to show even my most rotten attempts at creating a thing of beauty.
He teaches me stuff about religion, and cooking, and car mechanics, and the US, and music, and all kinds of other things.
John cries a lot. And laughs a lot. He quit smoking almost a year ago, a supreme act of courage and love I simply did not believe he was capable of. I like that in him - the fact that he can still surprise me. (Let me just interrupt here to tell you I've been writing this for quite some time now. I write stuff, then edit it some time later, then write some more. OK, that being said, I can tell you about yesterday. Listen.) Something happened yesterday, and John surprised me again. We were in the car, and he was taking me to work. We've been having huge money problems, so morale has been quite low in our household. I started telling him that despite our financial issues, I really thought we should invite our friends over for birthday pizza. And just as I started to tell him my reasons, he replied: 'Yeah, maybe our problem is that we've been too sad. We don't celebrate much. We are not grateful... to God, to life, whatever you want to call it. ' Celebration of life. Gratitude. Change of attitude. My thoughts exactly. I was amazed.
So then I screwed up and got caught doing other things and did not publish this yesterday, like I meant to. Anyway. This post is my tribute to John's brave spirit, and his courage, and his love for our life together. It's been a year since he stopped smoking. Atta boy. So John, my dear, come up to the stage and take a deep bow. We're applauding.
