The Spousership

“Would you do it again?”

Yesterday, I asked this question to my beloved wife, who endured months of uncertainty and inflating credit card balances for the sake of “Lemonade.”

Yet there I was, asking her again to look down the barrel of a loaded mortgage. To fall on the grenades of our finances. Wondering if she could see beyond her still-healing scars to support another uncertain film project.

And this woman, this brave woman, who is neither unaffected nor always certain of her decision to support my insanity, said yes.

I am about to embark on the first leg of production for “Lemonade, Detroit” (working title). The plan is to shoot and edit a trailer, attach it to the case study from the first “Lemonade,” then pitch the hell out of it to financial backers.

It’s an uncertain course with an uncertain outcome. And without this support — this amazing, spiritual, affirming, connective, transcending support — nothing great is possible. Everyone needs their spine. Their sounding board. Their muse. Kathryn is mine.

I’ve tried to lure more than one person away from the relative certainty of future paychecks to climb an uphill startup battle with me. In each case, the realities of commitment prevented it.

It’s absurd of me to expect otherwise, really. How do you do that? How do you convince a gainfully employed family man to leave his post and embark on a question mark? You don’t.

Which makes Kathryn’s willingness to do this with me all the more remarkable. It was a theme consistent throughout “Lemonade.” Bob Weeks wanted to start a coffee roasting business with no clients and his wife said “Go for it.” Jonathan Halitsky wanted to change careers and carefully consider next steps, and his wife said take your time.

But it works both ways. If Kathryn asked me to return to the regularity of full time work — either because she wasn’t ready for another go or because the kids and the house and the need for normalcy were just too important to our family — then my answer would be, yes. Absolutely. The Detroit film stops today.

And that’s what makes our unit work. We are a platoon. Decisions made, together or unilaterally, affect us all. I would sacrifice for her the same way she has for me and for our children. If ever the road ahead looked too dark, we would return to the light. No questions asked. It’s our mutual promise.

Am I ready? No. Never have been. But here we go anyway.