What Matters? She does. | The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
What Matters? She does.
by

On nearly losing wifey.

Yu might not know this, but I was a speechwriter and lawyer for Richard Nixon in the last year of his administration. I worked on Watergate defense and my part of it went well. I also own an apartment at the Watergate Apartment complex in D.C. As far as I know, I am the last person even vaguely associated with “Watergate” who still lives, even very part-time, at the Watergate.

Recently, I was at my apartment, returning from a speech, and trying to reach my wife who had stayed back at our home in Los Angeles. I had been trying since the night before, leaving messages, texting, and I kept trying to reach her all night.

The next morning, I sent my trusty messengerette, Helen, over to see what was going on. Helen reported back that Alex, my wife, was not there, that her car was not there, that the dogs had made a mess, and that her bed had not been slept in.

I went berserk. Helen called the hospitals. I called the Beverly Hills Police. No sign of her. I filed a Missing Persons Report. What could have happened? She wears jewelry and I could imagine her getting kidnaped and carjacked for her jewelry. I could imagine her getting carried off by terrorists.

I got my travel agent on the line to get me a flight back to L.A. immediately. Then, by a great miracle, a police officer from the BHPD called and said he had good news. My wife was alive and fairly well but had been in a bad car accident the night before and was incommunicado for a time. Her beautiful car had been struck from the side. I fell to my knees and thanked God, and then rushed home, via Atlanta, which was the only flight I could get.

What I thought of the whole way home was that I am interested, very interested, in economics, politics, defense policy, history, demographics, education, the total nonsense of political correctness. I love to talk about these subjects on the air and in print.

But they mean absolutely nothing to me compared with my wife. We have been together for fifty years. She is the kindest, most forgiving, most gentle, most intelligent human being I have ever known. Her face is angelic. She is the only woman I have ever wanted to marry. She is my whole life. She is the rock upon which every other part of my life is founded.

I have known her since Lyndon Johnson was President and I have never known her to do a mean-spirited thing. She is the most loyal woman on the planet, even though I don’t remotely deserve it.

Nothing, no Trump, no Hillary, no Putin, no stock market, no houses or boats or cars mean a thing compared with my wife’s smile and infinitely expressive eyes. Nothing means anything compared with my wife, although my son and his family come closest. Then my sister and then my best friend Phil.

But basically, I have a lot of things and in a tiny way, am famous. None of it means anything compared with knowing that I can at any time reach out and touch the goddess of the heavens, my wifey, my Alex, who is so much better than I deserve that it cannot even be calculated.

If those are your priorities, too, show them. Make them clear to your significant other.

My wife was back home before I got in from LAX. I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life. I hugged her until she could not breathe. Thank you, God, thank you, God, thank you, God.

And God bless Toyota, which made a car so strong that even in a bad crash, wifey walked away basically unscathed.

But above all, thank you God, for every second with my wife. I try to show it and so should you unless you are a fool.

Ben Stein
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Ben Stein is a writer, actor, economist, and lawyer living in Beverly Hills and Malibu. He writes “Ben Stein’s Diary” for every issue of The American Spectator.
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