SPECIAL TO THE SOMERS RECORD (02-25-16)
Last Sunday was Valentine's Day, and I celebrated the way most men do, by waking up and finding out, to my surprise, that it was Valentine's Day. Then I had to figure out a way to slip out of the house and forage for some sort of a gift. I know you're thinking that I should have just made her breakfast in bed, but someone like me could burn down the house trying to cook eggs and bacon in the middle of a waterbed.
So I slipped out to the store after leaving a note that said I was walking the dog. What should I get? Flowers is a traditional choice, a way of saying, "I pledge my undying love for you with something that will be dead in three days." A box of chocolates? The gift that says, "Honey, I will love you even if you gain ten pounds. Fifteen will probably be pressing your luck. By the way, are you going to eat all of those?"
Lingerie is nice, but it tends to highlight an inverse proportion that is not so romantic, which is: The More Uncomfortable a Woman Is, The Better Men Think She Looks. You only have to look at the invention of high heels to know that that is true. They are only comfortable when walking up a 45-dgree incline.
Maybe I should I just get a card? Naturally, they are all out of Valentine's cards. I think about buying some red construction paper, glitter, paste and a doily, and making my own like I did when I was in the third grade. I gave one to my teacher, of course. It seemed inappropriate to get her lingerie. I found out that it is harder to find a doily these days than you would think. Finally I found a sympathy card. Anyone who knows me would find it more than appropriate that I got my wife a sympathy card on Valentine's day. The card said, "Getting through this day is easier when you have someone to share your loss with." I crossed out "loss" and wrote in "candy." Then I picked up some candy.
Perhaps love was never defined better than in Paul's letter to the Corinthians in the Bible. He didn't mention which particular Corinthians he was addressing when he wrote the letter, but I think we can all assume it was to those Corinthians who woke up forgetting it was Valentine's Day. Paul was an apostle, although not one of the "twelve apostles." I don't know much about the Bible, but I know a lot about the Beatles, and I'm guessing he was like the Pete Best of apostles.
Anyway, in this epistle from an apostle he writes, "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." Love seems to be the exact opposite of Donald Trump, now that I think of it.
On the way to the car I realized that I should have brought the dog along since I was supposed to be walking her, and already my Valentine's Day was starting out based on a web of lies and deceit. So I picked up some more candy, and also got a card for the dog.
Last Sunday was Valentine's Day, and I celebrated the way most men do, by waking up and finding out, to my surprise, that it was Valentine's Day. Then I had to figure out a way to slip out of the house and forage for some sort of a gift. I know you're thinking that I should have just made her breakfast in bed, but someone like me could burn down the house trying to cook eggs and bacon in the middle of a waterbed.
So I slipped out to the store after leaving a note that said I was walking the dog. What should I get? Flowers is a traditional choice, a way of saying, "I pledge my undying love for you with something that will be dead in three days." A box of chocolates? The gift that says, "Honey, I will love you even if you gain ten pounds. Fifteen will probably be pressing your luck. By the way, are you going to eat all of those?"
Lingerie is nice, but it tends to highlight an inverse proportion that is not so romantic, which is: The More Uncomfortable a Woman Is, The Better Men Think She Looks. You only have to look at the invention of high heels to know that that is true. They are only comfortable when walking up a 45-dgree incline.
Maybe I should I just get a card? Naturally, they are all out of Valentine's cards. I think about buying some red construction paper, glitter, paste and a doily, and making my own like I did when I was in the third grade. I gave one to my teacher, of course. It seemed inappropriate to get her lingerie. I found out that it is harder to find a doily these days than you would think. Finally I found a sympathy card. Anyone who knows me would find it more than appropriate that I got my wife a sympathy card on Valentine's day. The card said, "Getting through this day is easier when you have someone to share your loss with." I crossed out "loss" and wrote in "candy." Then I picked up some candy.
Perhaps love was never defined better than in Paul's letter to the Corinthians in the Bible. He didn't mention which particular Corinthians he was addressing when he wrote the letter, but I think we can all assume it was to those Corinthians who woke up forgetting it was Valentine's Day. Paul was an apostle, although not one of the "twelve apostles." I don't know much about the Bible, but I know a lot about the Beatles, and I'm guessing he was like the Pete Best of apostles.
Anyway, in this epistle from an apostle he writes, "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." Love seems to be the exact opposite of Donald Trump, now that I think of it.
On the way to the car I realized that I should have brought the dog along since I was supposed to be walking her, and already my Valentine's Day was starting out based on a web of lies and deceit. So I picked up some more candy, and also got a card for the dog.
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