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You are all my reasons
Since I was a young boy, people have told me how smart I was. My parents first. But then my teachers, too. And friends. And others.
I have thirsted for knowledge. I have lustily pursued the mysteries of life. I have consumed knowledge like a ravenous wolf. I have sought truth and flaunted folly. I have been reasonable and absurd. When reality needed a break, I dove headlong into fantasy.
But it was never my mind that guided me. It was my heart. I come from passionate people—a long line of them.
I remember things from my childhood as if they were yesterday, and forget yesterday as if it were a thousand lifetimes ago or never happened at all.
But every year for 45 years at this time of year, I remember that summer day in South Arlington. I remember the day that passed like a dream more vividly now, perhaps, than I experienced it live. I was moving like Autumn’s last fallen leaf, dancing on that sweet summer breeze. Even the air smelled like the Heaven Scent perfume I bought her when we were first dating.
I was walking on a sunbeam, light as air.
Never mind the church was tiny and built for utility over elegance. Never mind the preacher had pigs penned out back. Never mind the ceiling was too low for a sanctuary. Never mind the congregation was not our people, nor the preacher our preacher. Sure, we were members there, but we never belonged. We were fish out of water, diving into the deep end of marriage.
And we were not yet 19 years old.
We said I do before we knew what to do. But it was done, and no regrets. No takebacks. No second thoughts. Not then. Not now. Not a second since.
Perfect? You kidding me? Do you even know me?
If you wanted a face for “flawed,” mine would serve as well as any. If you wanted a man who one dear member of her family would describe as “the dumbest smart man I have ever known.”
I’m your man.
But this isn’t about me.
This is about a woman whose resilience and relentless love are only matched by her timeless beauty. Even now, at 63, she shines like a new dime.
My friends still tell me every time they see her, “You outkicked your coverage.”
Damn skippy, Junior. I outkicked yours, too. But I got this covered because she covers me. She accommodates my impulsiveness. She balances my brooding. She carries my burdens. She soothes my nerves. She buries my sorrows in the depths of her soul. She celebrates my victories. She laughs at my jokes. She hates my enemies. She loves my friends.
She is not the wind beneath my wings. She is my wings. Without her, I am a flightless bird who understands all about flying and cannot leave the ground. I am a problem-solver with insoluble problems. I am a poet without a poem, or vice versa. I am a singer without a song, or vice versa. If you think this version of me sucks, and you have every right to do so, you have no idea, bub, how sucky I could be…without her.
I have dragged her through suffering no woman should endure. Poverty. Humiliation. Pain.
She handles my fragile ego with care, like a museum curator with a timeless treasure. She refuses to let me quit. She never quits on me.
A beautiful mind is a lonely thing without a loving heart. She is beautiful. And she is mine.
Since I will never give a Nobel Prize speech, I will let Russel Crowe’s John Nash tell you all how I feel.
I’ve always believed in numbers; and the equations and logic that lead to reason.
But after a lifetime of such pursuits, I ask,
“What truly is logic?”
“Who decides reason?”
My quest has taken me through the physical, the metaphysical, the delusional — and back.
And I have made the most important discovery of my career, the most important discovery of my life: It is only in the mysterious equations of love that any logic or reasons can be found.
I’m only here tonight because of you [his wife, Alicia].
You are the reason I am.
You are all my reasons.
Thank you.
I have never been as brilliant as Nash, but I have been driven almost as mad. I have lost as much. I have drained the bitter cup of sorrow and regret. I have felt the pain of abandonment and being forgotten.
But never by her.
So, if I have a speech to give, let it be…
A Beautiful Mine.
