The Enduring Sweetness

Between a Woman and a Man

Christl could have done almost anything. She could think in numbers and visualize like the artist she was. She read widely. She was highly articulate, with an easy, natural vocabulary larger than many native speakers of English. She had an open directness that, combined with being a good listener, made her able to interact confidently with almost anyone.

She could learn, and she could teach. She thought things through, and then she acted. She had no problem making decisions. She was intuitive; she was analytical. She could be richly emotional, then cooly detached. She was at ease in her body and presented herself, as she was, without being embarassed or combative.

She was ethical, creative, trustworthy. She went beyond being honest — to the principle of manifesting her truth, though sometimes her Germanic directness sounded abrupt.

She could make mistakes and learn from them. She managed money with ease. She took naturally to work. By the time I met her, Christl had already been successful in a string of interim jobs from secretary to nanny to executive assistant to day-manager at a retirement home. She might have become an engineer or architect or executive. She could have done almost anything.

But when I met her, what she wanted first and most was to be a Mom.

She wanted to raise children in a family with a man who would be a father to their children and love her and be true to her. For 42 years, I was the lucky man who made that possible.

Christl loved stability, tradition, regularity, and order. And as soon as she had achieved these things, she would do something different — because she also loved spontaneity and change. Many days I came home from work to find the house rearranged. Furniture swapped out for something different. A white wall might now be painted the color of burnt orange, with streaks of translucent gray like clouds across it. This was the woman who completed every requirement for a college degree in art and psychology, then cheerfully walked away — danced away, probably — a free spirit, without even collecting the diploma. Our life was an ongoing mixture of stable order and creative chaos.