But they are not Mark Holt.
No, Mark is one of those people who, if he happens to be in a photo, usually has his eyes half shut, or is tucked into the last row, content to blend in with the background. That's why it's amazing I found this photo of him, standing proudly by his man-room acquisition, an old mandolin that someone had forgotten about. Mark saw that thing and realized that it still had some sparkle and life left in it, so he bought it. Gave it a new life.
Quiet people are like that--patient and observant, forever able to see the potential in half-broken things that we noisier folks simply can't be bothered with. Thing is, they also have a great capacity to enjoy the sunshine-sucking people who draw their energy from the clangy fuel pumps of crowds and chatter.
If Mark were of the earth, he'd be the Oglala Aquifer, running deep and cool beneath the sandy soils of us shallower types, quietly nourishing us in our wilder pursuits, a seemingly endless source of support and encouragement.
I am no prima donna, nor do my tastes run towards the higher end of things. Still, I can think of no time in our 25-year marriage when Mark has said "no" to me. No time when he has thrown up a barrier between me and my dreams or ideas, even if those things mean we will be hosting a party with 50 tired teachers in need of dancing and cold beer.
They say opposites attract and, given the satisfying life that Mark and I have made for ourselves--one in which we still get a daily kick from each other--I'm apt to agree with them, whoever they are. I am steadier, happier, deeper and more content with Mark Holt in my life. Yes, I still occasionally pull up my overfilled wagon next to the "sunshine" pump and milk it for all it's worth, but I know now that the fuel that really sustains me is back home, sitting quietly in his man room, admiring his collection of once-orphaned items, made shiny and new in his steady presence.
Happy 50th, Mark. Mighty glad to have you in my life.
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