Let me count the ways I love you.
First off, I’m not a bean counter in the formal sense: a person who puts emphasis on controlling money and budgets.
My wife and friends would say the slang definition better fits me: a person who takes a love of tracking numbers too far.
Numbers are my way of measuring the world—how big, how far, how much, how many and how important.
I’m not a savant by any stretch, but I remember numbers: our credit card numbers and security codes, my wife’s Social Security number and mine, statistics from sports, how many days we took vacations, how many miles we drove, and the number of cities and states we visited. I recognize friend’s cars by their license plate numbers.
Start with Money
In my middle-class upbringing, we neither discussed money nor avoided the subject. We didn’t have much of the green stuff, but we had enough. I suppose that’s why I consider talking about money a neutral topic. I never ask people how much money they make because I don’t care, and it’s not a measure of a person’s worth.
On the other hand, I do like to know how much stuff costs.
A friend recently told me they planned a two-week wine tour in Tuscany.
How much, I asked.
The friend hesitated and said $20,000, including airfare, hotels, tips, and taxes.
Can’t afford it, my mental calculator said, and I crossed it off my list of future adventures. I look forward to hearing all about the trip—and how many bottles of wine he bought.
The Value of Marriage
Marriage can’t escape this number mania.
My wife and I met in college a week after Valentine’s Day, 1968; I was 18, and she had just turned 19 (the number tells me I married an older woman). We’ve been married since late February 1972—53 years (Only 7.7 per cent of marriages make it to the 50-year mark).
Our Feb. 14 Plans
Just this morning, we were discussing our stay-at-home dinner menu for Valentine’s Day. The main course will be Dungeness crab pasta (my favorite).
“Sweetheart,” I said. “You know this will be our 55th Valentine’s Day, if you add the years we were together in college. Amazing, huh?”
She laughed because, after all these years together, she still can’t believe I keep track of life events by the numbers.
They mean nothing to her. She lives in-the-moment. In fact, when we found the 50-year-old topper on our wedding cake (you could still smell the frosting) neatly wrapped and packed in a box, we pulled it out, commented about the day, took a photo of us holding it, and tossed it in the trash. I tucked away the memory into my digital library of 43,000 photos.
My numbers World
Books written: five; debut novel November 23, 2021, then two more over 14 months (now I’m at four novels in the Angel of Mercy Series), one novelette (Love Storm), and one stand-alone, Bless Me Father, For YOU Have Sinned (Spring 2025), and a collection of 22 short stories, To Bee or Not To Bee (Summer 2025).
Biggest reading year: 2017 (72 books; most years I average three per month)
Children: none
Meals with my wife: 60 per month, 720 per year, 38,160 over 53 years of marriage. The total would be close to 40,000 if you add four years in college before marrying.
At age 76, days I’ve lived: 28,000; if I make it to 80, 30,000.
Life expectancy: 12 years
Backpacking trips: 50; first trip on my 48th birthday.
Sunsets I’ve enjoyed (15 years living on the Mendocino Coast): 5,475
Sunrises witnessed over six years in Portland, Oregon (from our east-facing bedroom): 2,190.
What does all this add up to? Zero?
No matter how you measure life, have a Happy Valentine’s Day.
A Final Note
My projected weight after our Valentine’s Day dinner of creamy crab pasta, salad, Berry Bomb pie (a local market specialty) and white wine: I’m not telling.
Bruce Lewis is retired from careers in journalism and public relations and the author of the Angel of Mercy thriller series. As a journalist and public relations consultant, he has written over 8,000 non-fiction articles, blog posts, news releases, features and short stories.
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