I want to tell you about the most important thing that ever happened to me, John.

By the time I started high school, I was pretty good in school (well, eventually). I was the starting fullback on our high school football team. I was generally well-respected and well-liked.

But I was never a big hit with girls.

High school me

"Not a big hit with girls? Surely you jest, Denny."

After a short married-too-young first love, I was devastated. There was lots of heartache but I hoped that someone would come along, someone I could share a life with.

When I was a 23-year-old Assistant to the Superintendent of the Evergreen School District, I met Paula Fruci, then a fourth-year middle school teacher. She was smart, principled, quick-witted (oh, so quick-witted!), and direct. After just one night of playful banter at a school board meeting, I asked her for a date. She turned me down. Then she turned me down again.

I'll spare you the play-by-play except to say that she eventually said yes. The first date was her homemade spaghetti and meatballs. What else?!

From the earliest days introducing (not-Italian, not-Catholic) me to her (very Italian, very Catholic) family, Paula and I learned that our relationship was enriched by plenty of laughter (and pasta). That's Paula. She has the sharpest sense of humor of anyone I know., I don't even mind being the, uh, "victim" of it. I'm laughing too hard.

So, Paula and I were married in April 1976.

Paula and me on our wedding night.

When this mustache and this suit were the height of cool, thank you very much.

Like any marriage, over the years there have been many ups and downs and challenges. We raised two energetic, inquisitive boys while each of us built our careers, me in politics and business, Paula as a teacher and principal.

And through it all, whether running a school or a campaign, we counted on each other as a steady hand to hold in the dark, a reliable mirror to reflect both beautiful and hard truths, and a supportive hug to quiet our sadness or amplify our joy.

We balance our life together by balancing each other.

But what does any of this have to do with my re-election? Quite simply: everything.

I love my job, John, and I work hard at it. But any knowledge I've picked up in my career – from Olympia to Washington DC and back again – is meaningless without the lessons I've learned in these 47 years of partnership with the most remarkable person I've ever met.

That is, building a life with Paula made me a better public servant for the people of Washington. Together, Paula and I have learned to listen carefully (even when we have something really important to say.) We've learned that no problem is unsolvable. We've learned to ask forgiveness for our shortcomings. We've learned that cooperation is a noble goal in its own right. We've learned to put others first. We've learned when to seek help, how to accept help, and the nobility of offering help.

And we learned that doing the right thing is easy when someone expects nothing less from you.

Paula and me at a campaign event.

As a father, friend, and public servant, I'm the person I am today because of Paula Fruci Heck.

I wanted to share all of this with you, John, so that you understand that I center these values in my work, because they're the values I've needed at home.

And when I promise to bring people together to solve our state's problems, I'm extending a commitment I've made to be the best person I can be – for Washingtonians, and for Paula, who's inspired me every day for nearly half a century.

Best,

Denny

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