I invite you to go to this link: https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m001msqn and listen to the amazing work that SOUL MUSIC program professionals do at BBC. This 28-minute program includes ME talking about how I am making peace with our love song at 17:30 to 22:00, then again at 25:10 to 26:46. But do take the time to listen to the entire program!

In fact, you can find more than 180 episodes of SOUL MUSIC, which is a radio “series about pieces of music with a powerful emotional impact.”

Thank you, BBC SOUL MUSIC, for including me in this broadcast!!!

Oh, and here’s a photo of Victor and me when we used this song at our wedding in June 1978. After we exchanged our vows at a seaside church, we stared with dreamy eyes at each other during our first dance as bride and groom while the band played on. For me, it was the perfect way to declare our love to the world. It became a statement of fidelity—and part of every anniversary celebration.

Readers of my memoir find out early on in my love story why I consider St. Patrick’s Day 1990 one of the worst days of my life. So it may come as no surprise that since then I never touch a drop of alcohol on St. Patrick’s Day. I prefer to give a listen to Randy Travis singing “Diggin’ Up Bones” as he soulfully ponders “sittin’ alone” and “resurrecting memories” and “exhuming things that’s better left alone” [link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T7V2hamnbz4]. So much drama in my life I could scarcely take it all in!

Here I am, 30 years later, with vivid memories of that day etched in my mind when I was so overwhelmed by a totally unexpected curve ball that rocked my world. But today we are all on the cusp of a totally unexpected pandemic with uncertainties looming all around. I’m reminded of living in a world in the early 1990s when the HIV/AIDS epidemic was a death sentence. Those of us who survived without the loss of loved ones to that horrific virus now are facing yet another threat of colossal proportions. I’m tempted to succumb to fear and despair.

I must confess that when many people last week went out to stock up on toilet paper, I stopped at an uncrowded card shop to stock up on sympathy cards. (What does that say about me? I guess I’m preparing for the worst, knowing it will not turn out well for all of us.) But I’ve also learned to armor myself with knowledge and faith and empathy for all involved.

Only this time around, no matter what the future holds, I cherish anew the pure joy of taking long, deep breaths without any respiratory distress in this one-day-at-a-time world. What a gift life is!

Plus, thanks to Frederick Buechner who wrote this prayer for his brother, not a churchgoer, upon his brother’s request when facing a terminal prognosis, I claim it as a perfect prayer for me as well and place it on my nightstand for handy reference:

“Dear Lord, Bring me through darkness into light. Bring me through pain into peace. Bring me through death into life. Be with me wherever I go, and with everyone I love. In Christ’s name I ask it. Amen.”—Frederick Buechner

“Let us be like a bird for a moment perched,
On a frail branch when he sings;
though he feels it bend, yet he sings his song,
Knowing that he has wings.”—Victor Hugo

[Photo courtesy of pexels.com, showcasing the photography of Lucas Pezeta]

“People shop for a bathing suit with more care than they do a husband or wife. The rules are the same. Look for something you’ll feel comfortable wearing. Allow for room to grow.”—Erma Bombeck

These words from beloved Erma Bombeck always make me smile.

First, it reminds me of my dread of bathing suit shopping, which explains why I keep wearing the same stretchy black one-piece with a thigh-forgiving skirt ruffle I bought many years ago at a shop near the lake—on sale in October when buying a swimsuit was the last thing on my mind. It fit, it was snug enough to stay put but comfortable enough for body movement, and—much to my delight—I didn’t have to think about wearing it until the following summer. Never a fashion statement for me, a swimsuit is a matter of having something on hand in case I’m unable to talk my way out of a full immersion water activity. You see, I don’t consider myself a strong swimmer, and I most certainly don’t allow others to photograph me at the beach; it’s not an image that brings me joy. I can share intimate details of my love life in my memoir, but I’m not letting my body parts all hang out in a bathing suit photo. I’m far more comfortable dressed in layers to match my self-defined modest and wholesome sensibilities—a place of safety.

These words from Erma Bombeck also remind me how unconventional (a polite word for being a misfit) I am. I never “went shopping” for a spouse. Quite the contrary, I contemplated life as a “spinster”—not because I wasn’t the marrying kind but because I had decided no one wanted me in that way. As a college student I was preparing myself for a meaningful future without the presence of a man in my life. But all that changed when “Victor” came into my life. I fell head over heels in love with him (a curious idiom to use for a person without any gymnastic abilities—that’s how unexpected true love was for me). I had no doubt he fell head over heels in love with me, too.

So we made marriage vows and embarked on countless adventures together. We followed the rules: We felt totally comfortable with each other and allowed for room to grow. Or so I thought.

Those who read my love story discover how the totally unexpected happens—and how I get myself in some serious trouble along the way. It turns out I needed to “allow for room to grow” in other ways.

Let’s face it: I don’t have a beach bunny body. I see those swimsuit issues of magazines showing photos that benefit from airbrushing all the scars, stretch marks, and other imperfections away. I also know plenty of people don’t like the way they look in a swimsuit. In fact, my Google search tells me “swimsuit anxiety” is a thing. But now it’s time to allow “room to grow” in my thinking on this subject in two ways, which can make us feel so much better:

• Focus on what our bodies can do (such as walk, jump, sit, lie down, relax) as opposed to what they look like.
• Be aware our loved ones are far more likely to remember the fun times we have playing in the water, not how awful anyone looked in a bathing suit.

News Flash: Attitude adjustment now in progress.

[Photo courtesy of pexels.com, showcasing the photography of Toni Cuenca; I’m not ready to publicly pose in a swimsuit…yet or perhaps ever.]

Drum roll: And the winners are…

I’m told my book was one of the “more than 2,300” book submissions for the 26th Annual Writer’s Digest Self-Published Book Awards program.

Here’s how it worked: Submit book, completed form, and entry fee by May 2018 deadline. All winners are announced in the March/April 2019 issue of Writer’s Digest. (For more details visit this link: https://www.writersdigest.com/writing-competitions-preparing-your-entry)

Judging results for The Straight Spouse: A Memoir by Vivian Fransen (Open Door Publications, 2017):

• Structure, Organization, and Pacing: “OUTSTANDING”
• Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar: “OUTSTANDING”
• Production Quality and Cover Design: “OUTSTANDING”
• Plot and Story Appeal: “OUTSTANDING”
• Character Appeal and Development: “OUTSTANDING”
• Voice and Writing Style: “OUTSTANDING”

Judge commentary (abbreviated): “A well-written and interesting glimpse into how massively a heterosexual spouse can be impacted by an emerging gay spouse. While Victor showed concern and love for his wife, his liberation was her trauma, (and) she suffered a crisis of identity that was almost fatal….This book should find a wide readership.”—Judge, 26th Annual Writer’s Digest Self-Published Book Awards

It turns out my book is not an award-winning book this time. But it’s clear my book did “win” some respect, empathy, and accolades during the judging process. I love Writer’s Digest!