In real life I rarely called my life partner and eventual wife “Red.” That was just the name I gave her in my writings, to protect our privacy a bit and because it was fun to give her a sort of alter ego. It always tickled us when a friend met her for the first time and said, “And this must be Red!”
And so, a year and a half after I suffered the most devastating loss of my life, what name do I ascribe to this little woman who has singlehandedly lifted my broken heart back up into the air? It’s actually an easy decision.
The first time I noticed her was when we exchanged pleasantries after church and then she said, “Well, I’m a hugger,” and opened her arms. I took her in and enjoyed the contact, then said, “I’m always happy to hug a beautiful woman.”
We went our separate ways and I thought, “Now, what made you say that, Warren? You’re going to give the woman ideas.”
Little did I know that she already had ideas, and that the rest would be history.
To hear her tell the story, she began to feel a special loneliness as she neared the end of five long years as a widow. She prayed for a man to enter her life who could provide some comfort and companionship.
One Sunday morning, she noticed a pleasant-looking white-haired gentleman playing guitar in the back row of the worship team in church. She made inquiries and heard yes, he is single, his dear wife passed away at the end of June 2023, and no, he wasn’t seeing anyone regularly as far as we know.
On a couple of successive Sundays, she approached him with a smile after the service, shook his hand and made small talk. It was nice enough but went no further.
Then she heard a country song about a bold woman who goes up to an attractive man and tells him, “You look like you love me.” In the final verse, Ella Langley says, “So if you ever see a man in a cowboy hat And you think to yourself, ‘I could use some of that,’ Don’t waste your time, Just give him this here line.”
She was not quite as bold as that, and he didn’t wear a cowboy hat, but the very next Sunday she did finish their small talk with, “Is it OK if, well, everyone says I’m a hugger,” and opened her arms.
“Of course,” he said, adding, to her delight, “I’m always happy to hug a beautiful woman.”
We have hugged many times in the ensuing weeks and found out many interesting and amazing things about each other, not the least of which is that we share the same birthday — not the same birthdate, she is a mere (mumble, mumble) years older than I, but I was born on her birthday. It’s the most interesting coincidence since I discovered I was born on the anniversary of the first edition of my beloved Door County Advocate.
And here we are a few weeks later, acting like goofy teenagers, me hurrying to her pew after the worship team is dismissed to hold her hand while our pastor friend preaches to himself and to the rest of us.
So what alter ego do I assign to this new major character in my life, in case I ever need to tell about something she said or an adventure we had together?
It’s so darn obvious that, even if you didn’t see the title of this post, you could probably say it with me.
I am pleased as punch to introduce you to The Hugger.
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