Because Forty.

MSU Cafeteria 1998

Stephen loves it when I write, but he loves it more when I write about him, so the best thing I can think to give him is his very own post. 

Nineteen years ago today, I was studying for some test - probably physics or something to keep my 4.0 streak alive.  (The goals I had back then...).  It was sometime after midnight when someone knocked on my window of my apartment.  By any standard of common sense I should have been scared, but instead I opened the door and let the fools in.  It was a friend and Stephen who just finished celebrating his 21st birthday and was in rare form for sure.  That was the first time we met.  He is the father of my children.  

Our friendship grew from there and he will tell you that I drove him absolutely crazy but he never gave up.  We spent hours together, rode all over campus on our bikes, and worked in the same parking lot.  I was a bank teller and every afternoon he brought the bank bags over from his store.  I could see him leave the store and walk across the parking lot.  He never went inside, just walked straight up to my window to drop them off and say “hi.”  Conveniently, he got an apartment the next semester about 26 steps from my front door.  He looked out for me - pretty much knew where I was at all times even though he pretended not to notice.  I can only pray that there's a Stephen out there for my own daughter when she goes to college.  That year, we met every day between classes outside the cafeteria at the picnic tables.  I sat there with my nose in a book and watched him run around the corner of Lee Hall and then suddenly start walking when he thought I could see him as to make sure he didn’t look too eager.  He did this for a solid year and I never told him because it was hilarious and endearing at the same time.  

Sometime that year, I decided that if we ever said we were dating that would be it.  So, that was it.  He kissed me in the parking lot of Rick’s Cafe and the rest is history.  Done.  

We got married on the hottest day in August of 2001 and the real adventure began.  Our honeymoon was in New York City - also hot, and the first of many sporting events that I would sit through sandwiched between fat men drinking beer and yelling at the bad calls.  We walked all over New York, had a blast, and really thought we were something.   We stood on the top of the World Trade Center and had our picture made but didn’t buy it because it cost too much, but sure had a good time talking about all the tourists in the kiosk pictures and their poses.  At the airport when we were leaving, Stephen opened his door and hit a van.  He was so worked up that he left our camera and our plane tickets in the taxi.  We nearly missed our flight, had to buy more tickets and we were so upset to have no pictures from our honeymoon.  Just a few days later, 911 happened and it was the first of many lessons in our married life that would teach us what really matters.  

In nineteen years, I guess you could say we have figured this all out together with a lot of help from the good Lord.  Stephen Jessop has never wavered in his devotion to me.  He is passionate about a lot of things - guitars, rock n’ roll, making sure people are happy, 80’s hair bands, grass, and grilled meat.  He is most passionate about his wife and his kids.  And, one thing is for sure, he has never given up.  I have singlehandedly through no fault of my own, dragged him through some of the most trying things a marriage could endure.  When my mother died, he cried more than anyone there - he cried for me because I was too numb to cry anymore.  

A year later, we found ourselves where no one in their married life wants to be - in an oncology office looking for options.  He took that bull by the horns and called every cancer center this side of the Pacific, begging and pleading in the way only he can.  Stephen is honest and passionate and people know it when they meet him - on the phone or in person - they just can't not like him.  He started researching cancer treatments then and hasn’t stopped.  He stopped at churches on his work route and went in to their sanctuaries to pray for his wife.  When I couldn’t walk, he had the MRI report in hand and read it to the doctors himself.  Sure, he could have walked away but instead he tattooed my name on his wrist - my signature from his 36th birthday card I gave him a few days before.  

Last year, he walked in and said we were giving back to Melanoma Research and “we” were going to do a race.  I was poorly convinced and poorly motivated but he would not give up so I joined him.  He wore us all out with race plans, but in the end our first race at $42,000 was one of the largest inaugural races they had ever had.  

Today he is 40.  I have had the pleasure of knowing and loving him over half of my life.  He has made me a better person.  I have a son that resembles him in both looks and mannerisms and a daughter that shares his passion for life and his love for music.  I have learned to love sporting events, tolerate rock n’ roll, and accept the guitar fetish.  I giggle when I see him walking out in his pajamas and rain boots to move the sprinklers so his grass stays green and lament with him in August when it’s as brown as a bail of hay.  I roll my eyes at 2 am when he goes outside to check on his Boston butt.  I smile every time I see his watch slide down on his wrist and see my signature there on his arm.  I live with gratitude that 19 years ago, he knocked on my window, found me, and never gave up.  

Happy 40th Birthday, Stephen Jessop!

I love you!

1998 or so

The famous Lee Hall

Call me