Over the years I’ve encountered a lot of information about mating habits. I know, for instance, that mountain goat males literally butt heads to see whom Miss Mountain Goat goes home with. Strongest mountain goat wins.

Then there’s the blue peacock who struts and fans his tail feathers to attract his chosen peahen. If the exhibition impresses her sufficiently, she chooses him back.

And the bird that brings his intended home to check out the nest he’s built. She looks it over, and if it’s better than the other offers she’s had, she moves in.

Or the Galapagos tortoise males who stand as tall as they can and stretch their necks as far as they can. The tallest one wins the female.

Evidently, in order to perpetuate the species, nature has caused the desirable female to choose the biggest, strongest, best looking and most prosperous.

Which makes me wonder how I ever got married. I can only believe that Linda saw something in me that I didn’t see or thought she saw something that I didn’t really have. Either way, she agreed to marry me. In the fifty-six years we’ve been man and wife (longer than my relationship with anyone else, relative or otherwise), she has helped shape my life, not in the least by having (with some help from me) two children.

That's the reason that I’m dedicating my Mother’s Day blog to Linda instead of to my own mother, who also had a tremendous influence on my life.

If you’re a thoughtful person or don’t sleep well at night, you may have pondered what might have happened if you had chosen the path not taken at the dozens of different points that you encountered forks in the road. It is, of course, pure speculation, but some speculation is based on more evidence than other.

For instance, if Linda had gone for somebody with more spectacular tail feathers, I believe my adult life would have been much more like my college life, with spotty accomplishments surrounded by big puddles of bad calculations. Marriage and her counsel made me a more dependable person.

And it wasn’t long after that—eleven months—that we became parents and began learning a whole new role. Together we raised two children—Chuck and Leslie—at times with more skill than at other times. But both of them grew up to be good people who married good people; so I figure that on balance Linda and I did a good job.

So this is for the mother of our children. Together we created a gene pool, a nest, and environment that sent two more into the world. A matter in which we can both take some pride.

I’m glad that you chose me. And I’m glad that we aren’t mountain goats, blue peacocks, or Galapagos tortoises. I’d have lost for sure, and I wouldn’t be able to wish you a very happy Mother’s Day.