My wife

I’m sitting across from my wife today. We’re working together for a few hours. It’s one of my favorite things to do. There’s something about gazing up and seeing her sitting there—makes my day. Truly does.

Anyhow, this morning my wife gave a talk about emotional IQ and children at a nearby high school. She was told there’d be a lot of people there—and there were seven. I’ve had many similar experiences in my life. When my first book came out, I was invited to my hometown library in Mahopac, N.Y. to talk. I’d say three folks attended—plus my parents and wife. For Boys Will Be Boys, I was invited to the Ft. Hood military base. Was led to believe it’d be a bunch of soldiers in a room. Instead, I was placed in the front of the Ft. Hood answer to Target. Me, a stack of 200 books, nobody. When I hear “Attention shoppers, Jeff Pearlman is signing copies …” I wanted to hide.

The wife, however, was magical. The room was large, a kid was screaming, seven people were scattered throughout 10 rows of folding chairs. Somehow, she was on-point, bubbly, informative. Amazing.

In life, we always look for the great moments. Well, sometimes great moments aren’t so great. They’re little and obscure and hidden. When the situation looks crappy, the amazing step up.

My wife is amazing.

3 thoughts on “My wife”

  1. How about this one: When my cookbook was published I did an appearance at the Southern Women’s Show in Nashville. Right before I was supposed to start a cooking demonstration, a voice over the public address system said: “Nashville’s stripping firefighters are about to perform on Stage 2.” I think the only people who stayed with me were some elderly folks who just wanted to sit down and rest.

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