I was married for 23 years to a very fine man.
We grew up together. We got married right out of college when neither of us knew what we wanted to be when we grew up and we adventured and played and parented and learned about life.
Part of our adventuring had to do with seeking to support each other as we sniffed the winds for vocation. Jim knew his calling strongly from the get-go: he wanted to write musicals. He wanted to write musicals that would play on Broadway. So, we sought colleges for graduate work, took ourselves and our then almost two-year old to Pittsburgh where he studied at Carnegie Mellon, had another babe whilst in Pittsburgh, and moved to Duluth where we completed our child flock with son Jameson.
While I tasted the maybe-good of seminary (of course I loved it) and commuted for five years from Duluth to Minneapolis to get a Master’s of Divinity, he supported the adventure.
We were good for each other. And maybe most heartbreakingly, it came to be clear that being good for each other meant being not married to each other.
In the time since our divorce, Jim has devoted himself to his muse and to his craft and now he has a musical opening off-Broadway. Our children will be there for opening night and while I will not be there physically, my heart and wonder will be there. I suspect that the tears that would be rolling down my face will shine on the faces of our children.
It has been a relationship of applauding, one for the other.
It continues yet.
Break a leg, Jim Olm.