My husband, my friend
Joe, who ran a printing press the majority of his life, and who was afflicted with diabetes in 1987, is my mainstay of 39 years. He has been through one of my hospitalizations and took care of me through my bout of psychosis and other physical ailments. Joe has been emotionally strong for me upon the news of my mother’s and brother’s tragic deaths and my aunt’s recent passing. Although he never had training in the psychological field, he naturally knows how to help me. He gives me my own space. Our relationship isn’t picture perfect, by no means. We quarrel, we make up, we say things we wished we wouldn’t have said to each other, but by the end of the day, we find ourselves in each others arms exchanging, “I love you’s.” For a long time, I didn’t think that a man could make a difference in my life. I was a pro Women’s Libber, fighting for women’s equal rights. Those days are still embedded in my soul, yet, seem somewhat far and so in between. However, when I found someone like Joe, caring and honest, who could help me through life, share ideas, and was dedicated and loyal, I came to the realization that having a man with me was a good thing. Our relationship works because we have chemistry. We have the same beliefs on politics and religion. When I’m paranoid, he’ll say, “Ah, Gee honey, not again.” Then he’ll get in his car and say, “I’m going for a drive, but he always comes back. He gets me into the real world by suggesting new books written by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer and encourages my writing. He helps me find the truth in every situation.
My husband, Joe, and I
Arts and Writing by Sherry 