More on 2014. This was the year when I learned once again that I was married to a saint. Some bad things happened to my good name for a few days. My wife never wavered in her identity with me. Blows that might have sunk a man with a less worthy wife were painful but faded away in the sunshine of my wifey’s love.
I do not know why the Lord God, Lord of Hosts and of the High Places, gave me the best wife in the history of mankind, but He did. I am a pauper by the standards of my pal Mr. Buffett, an illiterate compared with really great essayists like Dr. Johnson, and altogether spend most of my life wasting time. But I am married to a genuinely superhuman saint, and this is borne in upon me moment by moment. I often think, “Well, my pal Warren has $50 billion, or whatever he has, but I have Alex, and I think I came out ahead.”
My travails this year made our marriage stronger than ever and happier than ever. A wife who will stand by me even though I did not buy anywhere near the right investments, even though I am wildly overweight, even though I talk about Nixon incessantly—that’s a great wife and makes for a great life.