As I write this, my wife’s cell phone is ringing.
By the time I finish this, she will also have received and sent about a dozen text messages. Later, when she checks her email, her inbox will be full.
Oh, there’s more.
Later, when we go out, she will stop and talk to hundreds – sometimes thousands -- of people she knows, from all walks of life. Gandhi could learn a thing or two from my wife, I’m telling you.
When she finally finds her seat at a restaurant or ball game, she will invariably find a total stranger nearby and strike up a conversation. By the end of their time together, she’ll have that person’s address and phone number, and the birthdays of all their children. Soon, she’ll tell me, we’ll go out for dinner together. Or maybe a two-week cruise.
As we discuss her new friends, her cell phone will ring a half dozen times. She will also receive and send that many text messages, too. If you look up the term “multi-task” in the dictionary, you’ll see a picture there of Kim on a cell phone. While typing an email.
This is not a column complaining that I don’t get enough attention.
To the contrary, I get plenty of it. Kim is the same outgoing and loving person to me as she is to everyone else she loves. How can I complain about being married to someone so friendly and so popular?
It obviously means I’m a really lucky guy.
You should see the number of cards she gets at Christmas. You should see how many people show up when she’s the host of a party. She has this natural gift for hospitality, and people are naturally drawn to her.
Painters, pool workers and lawn care specialists all know the same reality: A recommendation from Kim Kirby is the best advertisement they could ever have.
It’s not as if this is all by accident. More than anyone I know, Kim nurtures her relationships with people.
She listens. She laughs. She expresses concern and appreciation. Then she follows up with a phone or a text message, anything to communicate the love and concern she has for her valued friend.
In this world of me, me, me, Kim lives a life that says it’s not all about her, and that’s a beauty that goes much deeper than how hot she looks.
Kim models the truth of an old adage, “I went out to find a friend, and couldn’t find one anywhere. But I went out to be a friend, and they were everywhere.”
At last count, I figure she has about 14,344 best friends. But that number changes about as quickly as our national debt. It’s amazing.
Many, many years from now, whenever we gather to pay our last respects to her, we’re going to need more than a large church or a high school gymnasium. I’m thinking more along the lines of U.D. Arena. With parking attendants. And backstage passes so we can all share a margarita as a salute.
All of this is especially remarkable to a person like me, who is much more shy and reserved than Kim could ever dream of being. I deal with people all day long, so sometimes what I need most is a little quiet time to myself, when I can read a book, or maybe do some writing.
I met Kim 20 years ago on Valentine’s Day. She was and still is beautiful, so much so that I never dreamed she’d be interested in a guy like me.
But I’m still around, and for that I am thankful. We have a great marriage and have great kids. Through the years, Kim’s been not only my wife, but my comforter, my companion, my encourager, my teacher, my playmate, and my idol. We’ve traveled, been to concerts, shared sunsets and walked beaches.
She’s funny, smart, caring, insightful, warm, pretty and always the life of the party. She’s more than just my wife.
She’s my best friend. Imagine that.