The Dad Story Project
Encouraging fathers, one heart at a time
U X O R I O U S
Us (I’m the uxorious one on the right).
“Oh no! Nobody’s going to want to read that sappy stuff!”
Nine years ago I started writing a column for my local newspaper.
I write often about my happiest passion—my family.
My dear wife shows up regularly.
So I thought I’d stick all the wife-stories in once place.
And yes, I realize I am a hopeless romantic.
I’ll let you be the judge…
In search of spousal pith
I’ve been married just long enough to know that some decisions should be vetted. For instance, I would never buy a used bulldozer or a box of mallards without my wife’s knowledge and consent. (And yes, you can buy ducks online, just go to efowl.com.) So it was with a...
Sucking up the lady bugs
I could never be single. My wife Karen and I do lots of stuff together. Have for over three decades. We don’t live extravagantly. Can’t afford it. Wouldn’t do it anyway. And so our days are simple and straightforward, ordinary; some might even think them lackluster...
I’ll bring a side dish
We were all standing around after church a few months ago, sorting out who was going to bring the salad or the baked beans or the pickled woodchuck to the next week's potluck, when I offered, “Hey, I'll bring a side dish.” I had one arm wrapped around the shoulder of...
Same girl, different couch
My wife had been in what experts refer to as a PVS (Persistent Vegetative State) for several months. By that I mean that each night when I came home from work I knew exactly where she would be in the house, in what position she would be in, and what her state of mind...
The third aspen on the right
We all want to leave our mark on the world, especially if we’re in love. Sometimes, if there’s nothing pressing to rush home to after work (a leaky faucet, a hole that needs digging), I turn off the quick tar road and meander my way back to the house mostly on dirt....
My wife: mom on a mission
On my desk at work I have a photograph of my wife, Karen, when she was 20 years old; and on my computer background just a foot to the right is another photograph of her that was snapped after thirty years of marriage — I can’t tell the two images apart. When my eyes...
Holding on to what we know
Sometimes you just know. We humans think we’re rational and pragmatic; steady, reasoned thinkers building our lives on the bedrock of logic and truth. The world is concrete, knowable; we can write it's substance down in books, post it's realities on the web, give...
Why the man wore socks to bed
The man drove home from his office, forlorn because he knew his house would be dark and cold and quiet and lonely. His family had scattered. His son had gone off to college, married, and moved to a town and hour away — which was all wonderful and proper, but which...
A world without double-negative nitrogen
I’ve been writing this little column for over five years now, and just when I think I’ve got nothing left to say, my wife opens her mouth. Like most women, she doesn’t do this intentionally, it just happens. And after three decades, she still cracks me up. I was...
So many little things
It was a day of little things. I rushed home from work and yanked my car into the driveway only to find the place dark and vacant. As middle-aged men often are, I was befuddled for a few seconds, and then I remembered that my wife was visiting our son’s family and...