You gotta have a song 

Martin’s favorite dessert was Black Forest cake or any 18-year-old single malt. Mine? Pecan pie or Key lime pie.

He loved to drive fast. Me? If Miss Daisy hadn’t had Hoke, she would have had me.

His favorite colors were browns and tans. Mine are black, black, black, black and a smidge of blue.

We shared a love of music, though. Any and all music. The Funk Brothers, the Doobie Brothers, the Andrews Sisters. He even put up with my Barry Manilow thing. 

“We need a song,” I said to Martin when it was apparent that we were going to be a We. We were in it for the long haul.

“A song?”

I explained that we needed an our song. It had to be a song that we both loved, a song that had significance for the two of us, a song that wasn’t too annoying when it came to words or music, and it had to be a song that could stand the test of time. We had to be able to dance to it and it had to be a song where we could hear it again and again and never tire of it.

It had to be a song that whenever and wherever we’d hear it, we’d immediately think of each other. And if “The Newlywed Game” ever came back and we were asked the question, “What would your husband/wife say is your favorite song?” we’d win.

But first we needed an our song and given our requirements, that was a tall order.

Then, at the wedding of a bride and groom with a wicked sense of humor, the deejay played it.

We both remembered when it first came out in 1981—long before we knew each other. At the time we thought it was a pretty song. It was the singer, though, who nailed it.

During the dance Martin slowly pulled away and said, “I think we have a winner,” nodding toward the deejay. I told him I was thinking the exact same thing.

We had an our song.

Later, I asked the bride why the rather odd wedding song selection. That song, she said, is what love is all about.

And she was right.

Props to songwriters Steve Dorff and Marty Panzer for their sheer brilliance in explaining the complexities of love and commitment in such a simple, truthful way:

Only one man could sing that song.

Farewell and thank you, Kenny Rogers.