This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2004, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.
Life is a bit too complex, I know, for summing up in a couple of refrigerator magnets. Still, two of them have graced my kitchen for years, and both speak to me today as much as ever.
The other is this well-worn but simply brilliant thought from Joseph Campbell: "Follow your bliss."
Often, when I am working at this iMac perched on my kitchen counter, it feels as if Neitzsche is the job foreman. Thoughts bounce through this middle-aged brain like bumper cars, thumping and colliding until one theme finally edges out the rest. Pure chaos. I can't say the end result is always a "dancing star." But I can dream.
Today, however, I am all Joseph Campbell. When you read this, presuming all went on schedule, I will be on some remote hiking trail in the Canadian Rockies with the man I married Monday. Following my bliss.
I also am following the advice of my two editors, who, while not making this an edict, urged me to reveal all to you. They think there is some celebrity factor involved in this union, though I would call it scant. Perhaps there is some power in full disclosure.
So here we go: The man in my life is Ted Wilson, former Salt Lake City mayor, seasoned politician, respected mountain climber. We talk politics together. We hash over ideas. I have met and married a bright, kind and dashing man who knows there is great truth in country music and who can laugh as heartily as a pirate. He is the most centered man I know.
This feels right. And daunting. Like millions of others who marry more than once, we now have two families to blend. We have former spouses we love and respect. We count seven children total -- five come from Wilson; two from Mullen. Four of his are married with children of their own. One daughter will be married in October.
The Wilson clan is as tightly woven as the finest Navajo blanket, yet its heart is open. In my effort to find a place in this family's world, I have been welcomed, and I am grateful.
I am gaining seven grandchildren, ranging in age from 16 years to 13 months. The oldest has just finished drivers ed. The youngest has just started to walk. We anticipate their ranks will swell before the decade ends.
A full five years after he and his former wife launched their youngest into the world, my new husband is gaining two teenagers, at least for a couple of weeks each month. Wilson sets his jaw and looks resolute when he tells me he is up to the task. And why would I doubt it? Last year, he took the 13-year-old to a pro-wrestling extravaganza, where they watched Goldberg crush Triple H. Next month he will take the 16-year-old with a learner's permit on a journey into Big Cottonwood Canyon. It's important she learn how to downshift, he says. Wouldn't want to burn up the brakes.
Having moved along single for several years, each of us knows this is risky terrain. We thought we had adapted quite well to solitude. Now this. We are a unit. We fully expect our share of refrigerator magnet moments: Chaos and bliss. We plan, whenever possible, to choose the latter.