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We have all heard this verse read a million times at weddings. A woman and a man; joined together in Holy Matrimony before their closest friends and family…and most importantly God look intently into one another's eyes. They are to become one flesh, one body in Christ; for all who are there to witness their commitment on this monumental day. It is also a charge by those represented in the cheap seats to help strengthen the relationship in times of turmoil, strife, and love lost which will need renewal from time to time. The good, the bad and the ugly. You see, those in attendance have a responsibility as well…which you might strongly consider the next time you receive a wedding invitation. Do not just go and purchase a thoughtful gift from Simon Pearce, Swarovski, Bergdorfs, Tiffany or Wal-Mart; heaven forbid. It is important to note here that an important party to this story once told to me in simple and plain English, “Andy, life is not fair.” And I mean to tell you truthfully that this resounding four-word statement becomes increasingly true with each day. But I digress…

        The “I’m Third” principle means that you place yourself last, as opposed to in second position and excluding your kids. Your God, Your Wife (family, etc) and lastly yourself. It is designed that while you are still regarded and respected as the head of household, you humbly demote yourself; happy to be in third position for the betterment of your family and others.

     The beginning of the last “great” relationship started before it could. Stephanie will tell you that she first loved me; but at a minimum, it was a mutual feeling. I can still vividly remember the first time I was able to appreciate the beauty of her. I walked into the office confidently. I was a young broker, in fact the youngest with Edward Jones in Region 85. I was hired just prior to September 11, 2001, and had attended training twice for total of ten days in St. Louis, Missouri. I walked into the office in a crisp tie with a dark blue diagonal stripe, and a Carolina-blue outline that any University of Virginia alumnus would be proud of. I am always dressed for success with the exception of vacation. Stephanie takes that philosophy to the next level [it helps that she is a woman]. There are four adjectives that I recently have decided fit her personality and overall demeanor [at its best] to a “T”. Classic, timeless, sophisticated, and intriguing [and let’s throw in mysterious for good measure].

She is a perfect example of Virginia sophistication. She has the beauty of royalty, the fair skin of a maiden, a Goddess (think Cleopatra), the body of a swimsuit model, the face of an angel…a woman of any man’s desire. On this particular day in 2001, she was dressed in black. Now you may be able to surmise from my previous description that she is a woman who would be fond of black and white; navy on occasion. In clothing, absolutely! In personality, she is a mysterious creature to be revered and respected. Fickle, but discerning; direct, yet kind; grounded, yet [at times] nontraditional; principled, yet easily indecisive; changing within a moments notice. As I mentioned, this is an intriguing woman. I love this woman, but her change of venue within a moments notice can be exhausting. To give her credit, I have at many times been the brunt and worthy of bearing all the responsibility for her frustration as well. Many examples you will see in the following pages.

Two things stand out that will be evident. One would be my lack of being detail oriented; or not paying attention to, at any rate. I am without question an unabashedly “big picture” person. Always have been. It has served me well in business; as I have learned with experience, to be able to ask the right questions necessary to solve complex problems…properly making the “Layman” aware of the reason for the approach, the execution/plan and the expected result or desired outcome. The second would be my care-free or nonchalant attitude. Many years ago I read a fabulous book by Richard Carlson, PhD, entitled, “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff and Its All Small Stuff”. My exponential understanding of this philosophy; combined with my religious view and my respect and belief in faith [that everything happens for a reason; without coincidence], can be angrily frustrating to others. It’s not that I mean to present an aura of arrogance…a throw-away attitude, certainly not an “Ah, Who gives a Shit!” philosophy, however; more often than not, it is easily, early and often misconstrued in this manner. I do care…more than many people can ever imagine. The iconoclastic clash between the “Layman Mindset” and the “Durst Heart” are often polar opposites by, and in nature…opposites within the same principle. The bottom line is really this. It is exactly because I care that I have always taken a “big picture” approach to problems.

Perspective is what matters. Placing most problems, issues, drawbacks, poor options, idiosyncrasies, SNAFU’s (situation normal all f@#cked up); in their proper place allows the person and problem(s) to become smaller. With that balance in place, the answers to those issues/problems come into focus, become more clear and more options come to the forefront…allowing you to make the proper decision at the time of critical importance with the information at hand. I would like to make four suggestions here; or share with you critical principles; when used correctly, that make all the difference in any relationship.

Quartet of Love

       ~ Cold and Lonely Nights no More

It began like any other great love story, but this was no ordinary love. Boy meets girl. In its innocence, I believe we all have a desire to feel a connection to that first someone special and have it grow into a love so strong it hurts. This is not; however, how many love stories end. While I am talking about a specific love story, this is a story about four great loves…a “quartet of lovers”; or great love stories if you will. As you read these love stories elements of your own life and love will become clear. It will be immediately clear for some, and for others; sadly, it will become a desire to feel the raw emotion from which the words glide from the page into your own mind and into your dreams…of lovers lost, and of those hoped for. To this end, I encourage you to first read this text in it’s entirety on your own, and then share it immediately with the one. The person of your desires…the one whom you most respect, love and cherish. The one person in the whole world whom you would like to share every meal, every last spot of the ground, every adventure in travel, every life experience…the last ounce of your heart and soul. This is a fictional story based on fact with strong elements of truth told from four perspectives, but I encourage you to embrace it and attempt to make it your own. Combine your enjoyment of perusing the text while sitting on your front porch, candle lit with a glass of your favorite wine [or summer cocktail]; and then move the words from the page to your heart with a plan for reckless abandonment in your current relationship, or the relationship that you dream of while daydreaming. Or as you fall into a satisfying sleep (hopefully not while reading the words from these pages). So enjoy this quartet of lovers. I think you will be pleasantly surprised as a feeling of renewal such as a warm spring day after the rain, or a long drive as the leaves begin to turn in autumn as you enjoy a quiet ride with your better-half into the sunset.

The Pearl

"The ladies have to go first. . . . Get in the lifeboat, to please me. . . . Good-bye, dearie. I'll see you later."
(After putting his pregnant wife on one of the last life boats on the Titanic.)

~ John Jacob Astor

“Pay as you go; and if you can’t pay, don’t go”

~ Wayne Henderson Durst, my Grandfather of 92, born March 5, 1922

       

It is seemingly appropriate in my opinion to start with a love that has endured the test of time. This particular one has divided all fears, all consequences, the good and the bad; and still survived while thriving in a relative pain yet today. This couple began their successful relationship in 1945, when the man whom I would call my “real” father returned home from World War II. It has been said that war changes a man. And while I will have an addendum at the end concerning this particular issue which is bound tightly to my heart; I want you to know that in this instance, this man’s heart was changed in a way that can only be described as eternal humility—praise for all things simply given to us each day by God.

And to all who have graciously served, I am forever indebted. I know the meaning, for I myself have served.

They met in Baltimore, Maryland. This young, yet bustling city was at the time a hub for women who worked as part of Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s (FDR’s) charge to aid our “Freedom Fighters” abroad. I can think of no other war in history where women played such and integral role in the success of our efforts on foreign soil. They made everything from ration cans to tires.

        Sadly, our Presidents since have not had the foresight or the intestinal fortitude to recognize and appropriately integrate the female workforce as part of the totality of the big picture. With the independence movement, we have somehow devalued their services. Personally, I am proud and somewhat satisfied to have my “better-half” be somewhat independent, so much as she is held in the proper place of respect within the biblical perspective of the home.

I am a believer in the “I’m Third” principle. There are two sides to this that I would like to share with you who have taken the time to enjoy this book. A man is designed; Biblically, to be the head of the household. This principle can be found in Corinthians; which reads and I quote by divine intervention, thru God and by Paul (formerly Saul). “ (  ) This is a man that thru God would change the landscape of how we should approach daily living and move forward in love with the right by God to diligently embrace our responsibility of “The Great Commission.”

When I was four, I had my first experience with travel. It may have been on foot, but it was quite a way to go at such a young age. My best friend Paul and I were going to see the bulldozers. We had to make a break for it as we could not allow our parents to know that we were gone. So we hid behind the large maple tree in my grandfather’s front lawn until we thought the coast was clear.

We slipped down Pennsylvania Avenue and across Miller Street. Half a mile away was Main Street and an intersection where Paul’s grandmother Stella lived. We again had to be careful not to be seen. We knew that if we could traverse the traffic and begin up the hill we would soon arrive at the digging site. We managed to get across Main without getting caught and now we were within minutes of see the construction site.

Up the hill and a little to the left was the place where Grantsville Elementary School would be built. We would both be going there in the fall. I can vaguely remember how enamored I was with these large earth movers. They were larger than life. As we watched the dirt being moved, we envisioned what the building would look like. Besides when I was ready to go to college, this may have been the only time I can remember that I was excited to go to school. We paid close attention to the time and finally decided after a bit that it was time to make the journey home.

We made our way back to Pennsylvania Avenue and down the hill, past Paul’s grandmothers house, across Main Street and back up the hill toward the large maple tree…hoping to hide behind it for a few seconds like we were never gone.

As we walked up the hill toward my grandfather’s house, we were immediately spotted. We knew this was not going to end well. I can still remember this part like it was yesterday. My grandfather ushered me by my ear into the house and back a narrow hallway to the steps which led to the second floor. He sat me down on the first step and with a finger pointed he said, “Don’t you ever do that again!”

All I wanted to do was see the bulldozer. We knew we should have asked and we probably would have been escorted or driven over there by one of our parents, but this was an adventure. We had struck out on our own with a plan, an agenda, and a short time frame so as not to get caught.

Despite my scolding, I was fairly at ease as grandpa was not a strong disciplinarian. He has always been more like a trusted friend and confident advisor. I guess even then I could see the error of my ways even before I set out on my journey, but I have always been one to push the envelope a bit.

When I was seven, I embarked with my grandparents on my first cross-country trip. We were going to Kansas. I had stayed overnite with them so we could leave early in the morning. Suitcase too big to carry; though I tried anyway, we loaded up the purple Grand Caravan with all the things necessary to make the journey.

I was drawn by the fact that grandpa’s cousin Casey lived on a huge farm and had horses. It would be my first time riding a horse and I couldn’t wait to get there. I was going to just look out the window for the entire trip, so I brought along a sketch pad. A budding artist at the time, I decided to chronicle the trip in pictures. My grandfather had decided on a few important stops along the way which I would have to wait with anticipation until we arrived.

Staying in a hotel as a young boy is an adventure in itself. So is eating out at every meal. Even today, I love to travel and find the best of hotels and restaurants. Well known establishments; or better yet, unknown holes-in-the-wall. It matters not the place or the price, but it is the experience that matters.

The highlight of our journey on the way to Kansas was certainly the “Gateway to the West”, or St. Louis. I could hardly believe that we were going to go nearly 1100-feet in the air and be able to look over the vast expanse of the city and its surroundings. I can still remember that my grandmother didn’t think much of the Ferris wheel like system that ushers you slowly up to the top. Once we were there; however, it was each of our eyes that were opened to the masterpiece of a landscape that seems to reach forever. Little did I know that I would be able to return to this place at the age of twenty-three. When I accepted my first job out of college, the training classes were held in St. Louis.

On to Kansas. When we arrived we were welcomed as expected. I remember Casey shaking my hand to greet me and he had a firm grip. You could also tell he was quite the worker as he had calloused hands from all the hard work that it takes to run a farm. He had cows, horses, some chickens and a large barn full of equipment. Immediately my mind became fixated on learning to ride a horse. I wouldn’t do this on the first evening, but it was certainly on the agenda.

If my memory serves me correctly, we stayed in Kansas for about five days. I did learn to ride a horse and I was also taught how to lasso. I practiced by throwing the rope at a huge antique barrel of some sort. It had a large base and an hourglass shape at the top with handles on either side. It was white when originally painted but the paint had started to chip seemingly almost even from top to bottom and around. I would practice for hours.

After a few days, it seemed that I had captured the essence of what it would be like to be a true cowboy on the range. I did not learn to lasso while riding the horse. I think maybe some age and a lot more practice would have been necessary.

This was my first traveling experience and one I will never forget. The journey back home was somewhat solemn as the end of vacations usually are; especially now as an adult. To this day my grandfather and I still reminisce from time to time about the trip.