Happy birthday, Jan

This column dates back a few years. But the woman who inspired it is unchanged, and still surprises me with her kindness and thoughtfulness. Here's to the nicest person in the room - any room.

The Nicest Person in the Room

A couple months ago, my wife Jan celebrated a birthday, and she turned 22. I say 22, because she tells the kids at school when they ask that she’s 21, and who am I to say?

Now, I think it a little puzzling that we will celebrate 42 years together later this year, but she’s pretty smart, and I’m gonna be a gentleman and give her the benefit of the doubt.

And I have been blessed for even a few more years than that by a partnership with a woman that, while it’s sealed by marriage vows, is a bargain I would freely choose again, and again -- and again.

Why? Because no matter where I go, and with whom I associate, if she’s with me, then I’m with the nicest person in the room.

She’s not perfect. She shares many of the behavior traits with other women that mystify and sometimes frustrate many men, including me: a passion for attractive jewelry, actually enjoying shopping (go figure!), a compulsion to get the house ready for the arrival of the cleaning lady and, of course, Oprah.

But that’s OK. I sure as heck don’t want to be with someone who is too much like me, and these minor liabilities are more than offset by the assets she brings to our partnership, things like a surfeit of common sense, patience with many things, including things mechanical, an ability to be up when I’m down, and, well, a gift for being so nice to other people.

Many years ago, she told me that she likes to end a conversation with another person with them feeling better about themselves that when they began the conversation.  

And based on the number of good friends she has, she must be getting it right.  “Good” is the key word here: these are people for whom she would perform big favors, but I suspect that these people would also be prepared to do big favors for her. I've seen the reciprocal nature of her friendships, many going back decades, and it's for real.

There was the co-worker last week who was having a difficult time: her sister had a serious illness that resulted in both of the sister’s feet being amputated, and the co-worker was understandably distraught. She was sent to Jan by their boss, and the two women talked for a while.

Jan carries with her religious medals that have been blessed by two different Popes, and, after trying to console the poor woman, gave her one of each to help lighten the load.

And as the woman left later that day to visit her sister in the hospital, she made a quick stop by Jan’s school room, thanked Jan for her time, confirmed what their boss had said to her earlier that day about Jan’s being a good person to talk with about her sister, and left for the hospital clutching the medals.

This is so different from me. I’m not an unkind person, but I typically don’t make an extraordinary effort to help or to console someone else. It’s so ironic to me that I’m paired with a woman who possesses gobs and gobs of empathy – no doubt God had something in mind. It can’t just be a coincidence.

In a Christmas Eve Mass a few years ago, the pews immediately before Mass began were very crowded. We had arrived an hour before Mass to score some comfortable seats, and to hold some space for others who arrived a little later.

A few minutes before Mass began, there was an older man and his family who appeared briefly in the archway leading to our section. They were looking for a seat or two.

Noticing our section was full, they moved on. But not before my wife arose from her seat to retrieve the man, and to assure him that, if we squeezed together just a little tighter, why, there was plenty of room!

Me, I figured he should have arrived earlier, like me, to get a good seat. Can you say “Bah, humbug?”

I got to watch her the other day run a few computer classes in the elementary school in which she works. Her young students range from Kindergarten through Fifth Grade. She manages the classroom like a drill sergeant if the kids don’t behave – she will not tolerate bad behavior or a lack of effort - but if they behave, she is patient, helpful and kind.

She has “adopted” different kids over the years, befriended them on a personal level sometimes outside of the classroom, and all teachers know the rewards and occasional pitfalls associated with that. But, despite having experienced some of her own difficulties with this, she continues to help when she sees a need.

She spent over $100 a few years ago on winter clothing for a young person, and worked with another teacher to concoct a story that the clothing was the result of an award sponsored by the school. She didn’t want credit for the kind deed; it was enough to do what she felt was the right thing.

If we visit a bookstore, she spends most of her time in the section for children’s books. As we check out, I am usually assured of at least a $50 bill for new books for the classroom. The “Froggy” series of books are among her favorites.

Years ago, we brought one of her young charges to an MSU-UM football game in East Lansing. The kid had so much fun, when we went to leave, he threw himself on the ground and had a tantrum about having to leave. I managed to pull him upright after some scolding from Jan, and we were able to go.

It was pretty shocking, but if you live with the nicest person in the room, you learn to live with all the consequences. I’ve found it’s worth it.