One of my favorite things about the south is that intellectuals are often camouflaged and usually unpretentious. I used to fancy myself somewhat of an intellectual, but alas, I am not. I have learned that my true nature is just a happy spirit; but I'm drawn to the intellectuals. Tony, my brilliant husband, and I must seem like an odd match. I wake up happy, I love to sing aloud (badly), dance around the house, and have conversations with the people I'm in line with at the grocery store. Tony could literally never leave the house, he's leery of strangers, he needs to understand the way things work, and he has a biting wit. I have many friends that have never even met him . . . he's been referred to as a "cardboard stand-up" in photos because some believe he doesn't really exist.
To understand our relationship, you need only look at the selections on our personal iPods. My library consists of such things as Love Shack, Shiny Happy People, and I Want to be Sedated. Tony's library is strictly audio books such as "Electric Universe," "E=mc2," and countless books by Richard Feynman and Stephen Hawking. The problem . . . I sometimes feel guilty about not asking the deeper questions. This week, I tried to forgo my happy music and listen to some of his audio books. I was doing fine until we got to quantum physics, and frankly, I just don't get it. My childhood was filled with kittens, Kool-Aid, and lots of friends. Tony's childhood was filled with poverty, abuse, and uncertainty. What I do know is that when I've had a really hard day, when I've come home from caring for a loved one fighting for life with all my energy sucked, the energy of our house changes. He needs my energy . . . it's his air, his collagen, or as Tony might say, his CH2OH. I need his intellect - I crave stimulation even though I sometimes don't seek it out on my own. So, it's okay that I don't understand quantum physics. It's okay that I sing my happy music along with my iPod at the top of my lungs while gardening outside, with the coyotes howling in the background, mistaking my singing for an ambulance siren. It works; I am at peace, and that is my quantum leap.
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