Contrary to popular belief, the benefits of finishing a Ph.D. are quite over-rated. One benefit, however, rises to the top every time. It is this: Waking up each day knowing that no matter how grim life may be, I am under no real or imagined obligation to work on my dissertation. And that, my friends, is a priceless bit of perspective.
Given that I now have the ho-hum luxury of casually plopping down in front of my computer to write something decidedly non-scholarly, it seems high time to acknowledge the man who made it all possible: Mr. Brian R. C. Besides, in exchange for his magnanimous support during the final grueling months of dissertating, I eventually agreed to marry the man. (As my dowry, I offered him an autographed, hard-bound copy of my dissertation, which he politely declined.)
Brian and I met at a New Year's Eve party at a friend's house. The details on how this came to be remain a bit sketchy. Apparently, my friend invited Brian to come under the guise that I, an eligible, bachelorette, would be there. But she made no mention of this to me. I just remember that I was tired and cranky, and looked like death warmed over. That night Brian asked if he could call me and I, figuring he wouldn't actually call me, gave him my phone number.
The rest is history -- a history bespeckled with false starts, gallons of ice-cream, walks in the park, hours of schoolwork, and remarkable persistence (especially on Brian's part). This post, though, is dedicated to introducing Brian. More stories from our unconventional courtship may or may not be divulged in the future.
To spice up the introductions, let's play "three truths and a lie." Whoever, gets at least 90% may enter a drawing to win that hardbound, autographed copy of my dissertation -- a true collector's item. The game is simple: just choose the falsehood in each set of statements.
1.
a. Brian was born and raised in California.
b. He received his first work-related injury at age seven.
c. Growing up, milk was rationed, so Brian and his brothers bought their own milk.
d. He played wide-receiver on his high-school football team.
2.
a. Brian was a member of a prestigious children's choir in Argentina.
b. He once had a regular gig as the guitar-strummin', folk-singin,' heart-throb entertainer at the Friday night fish-fry at a private marina in Texas.
c. His music collection includes Def Leppard, John Denver, and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
d. As a boy, his piano teacher informed his mother that lessons were a complete waste of time and she should get him a guitar to replace the piano - the sooner, the better.
3.
a. Brian has worked as a contractor, a commercial construction supervisor, a custom carpenter, and as a worker on the "gut table" of a slaughterhouse.
b. He can fix anything except for leaky faucets.
c. In his 40's, he went back to school to earn a B.A. in Psychology at Texas Tech, which naturally propelled him to law school in Michigan.
d. He works harder than anyone I know, regularly starting his day at 4:45 a.m.
4.
a. Every morning since February 15, 2010 (with the exception of four or five days when we were "broken up"), I have woken up to an email from Brian.
b. During the final semester of my dissertation, Brian cooked dinner, did the dishes, cleaned my house, kindly listened to untold hours of whining, and otherwise responded to my every need, over and over and over again.
c. After we had been "dating" for a few months, he had the audacity to ask me if it was "o.k. to say we were dating." Naturally, I informed him that we weren't actually "dating." (We were just seeing each other almost every day.)
d. As much as I've begged him to grow one, Brian refuses to sport a mustache.
5.
a. Brian is a good cook, especially when it comes to meat.
b. He speaks beautiful Spanish.
c. If you can't find him at a church activity, it's because he's in the kitchen doing dishes or somewhere else folding chairs.
d. He has valiantly upheld his determination to kiss his bride for the first time on the wedding day.
You may now correct your work.
The falsehoods: 1. d 2. c. 3. b (There isn't anything the man can't fix.) 4. d 5. d (Thank goodness!)
