For the love of a good woman

I've changed everything. It wasn't just for her. Everything needed to be changed. I wanted to change. And finally, I'd found someone who understood the kind of changes that I wanted to make.

She never pressured me to change, never pointed out my failings, but just listened until I saw the flaws myself.

The changes had begun years earlier. Maybe she could see that. Maybe she could tell that underneath the wreckage of my life, the squalid apartment, the egotistical motorcycle-riding mess, there was something worth waiting on.

I wouldn't have done it.

Today is the 7th anniversary of my only blind date. Although we didn't marry until October 22, 1998, April 1 is the real anniversary. After three months of nagging by a mutual friend, Charlsa and I agreed to meet -- briefly. I didn't want to do it because she sounded like someone I could get serious about, and I had vowed never to do that again.

Charlsa Sings Carmen

Charlsa Sings Deep River

But I did, and very quickly after the blind date. Our personal vows to each other when we agreed to marry included that if we did marry, there was no way out. We were committed till death. Committed -- whew! There's a change.

The changing process began, for both of us. In our first year, I convinced her to quit a very secure state teaching job she didn't like and to begin teaching from home. The Atlanta Opera chorus master had told someone that she was the most talented musical sight-reading instructor in the Southeast. I showed her how she could make more money and have more time. My job would cover the insurance. She had more time to devote to her spiritual growth. I had a happier wife. The trade was great.

She taught me that I didn't always have to be right without ever telling me I was wrong. Instead, she said, "Perhaps you're right." For a long time, I thought I'd won the debate, whatever the debate, until I realized she never conceded, she just was done debating. Without hurting my feelings, or correcting me, she let me walk away thinking I was victorious. She is so much smarter than me. Now, when I get the perhaps-you're-right-line, I just sit down and shut up. She smiles. And I smile. We understand.

At 45, the right woman walked into my life. It may have been because I was ready, more mature, less interested in the chase, more interested in the catch. But in any case, I know a love that is born of all things good: respect, honor, integrity, faith, and even a good old fashioned dose of lust. But it's real.

Alan Alda was asked on CBS Sunday Morning a few weeks ago how his Hollywood marriage has stayed together for 47 years. His response was simple. "I love her. She loves me. And we're both sure about it."

Perhaps he's right.