I’ll catch hell for this, but I don’t care.
I don’t pray to Mary.
I don’t pray to any saint.
And the Pope is not the head of the Church on earth.
I go straight to the Father because of Jesus!
🚨 Tomorrow morning, the Senate’s FIRST order of business should be to REMOVE John Thune as Leader.
He’s the roadblock.
Fire him and get to work for America!
A reporter recently asked Jay Leno whether he had considered getting a girlfriend.
His wife, Mavis, has advanced dementia.
Jay looked genuinely confused.
“I already have one,” he replied. “I’m married.”
He later explained that people make vows when they marry, yet somehow seem surprised when someone actually keeps them.
Jay and Mavis Leno have been married since 1980. They met four years earlier at a Los Angeles comedy club, where he was performing and she was in the audience.
Jay became one of America’s most recognizable entertainers, hosting The Tonight Show for decades and building a famous collection of automobiles.
Mavis chose another kind of public life.
From 1997 to 2019, she chaired the Feminist Majority Foundation’s campaign against gender apartheid in Afghanistan. Long before most Americans understood what Taliban rule meant for women, Mavis was speaking publicly about girls banned from school, women barred from work, and entire lives erased from society.
She traveled, lobbied government officials, and spent years demanding that the world pay attention.
Today, an award for global women’s rights carries her name.
Then, slowly, the woman who had fought so fiercely for women the world ignored began losing pieces of her own memory.
In 2024, Jay sought legal conservatorship over her estate because her condition had progressed to the point where she could no longer manage important decisions herself.
The hardest part, he said, was not paperwork or public attention.
It was the mornings.
For nearly three years, Mavis would sometimes wake believing she had just learned that her mother had died.
Not remembering the loss as something from long ago.
Experiencing it as new.
She would cry.
Jay would sit beside her, comfort her, and help her through the grief.
Then the next morning, it might happen again.
Today, his life looks quieter than people might expect.
He still performs and spends time with his cars, but he rarely stays away overnight. He returns home, cooks dinner, and watches television with Mavis.
They enjoy animal documentaries and travel videos, visiting distant places through the screen when real travel has become difficult.
Sometimes she cannot walk through the house alone.
Jay lifts her into his arms.
As he carries her, he sways gently as though they are dancing.
He calls it “Jay and Mavis at the prom.”
She laughs.
She still recognizes him.
She smiles when he enters the room.
She tells him she loves him.
And when she sees something unfair on television, she still reacts with the same anger that once fueled decades of activism.
That part of her remains.
People often approach Jay and tell him how sorry they are.
He does not fully understand the sympathy.
Mavis is not in physical pain, he explains. She becomes confused, and sometimes frightened, and he is there when that happens.
He does not describe it as a burden.
He describes it as being needed.
The woman who spent years insisting that society must not abandon vulnerable women now needs someone beside her each evening.
The man she married is still there.
Not because the situation is easy.
Not because he expected this version of their future.
But because a promise made decades ago still means what it meant then.
For better or worse.
In sickness and in health.
Jay Leno does not consider his devotion extraordinary.
To him, it is simply marriage.