To all the Ladies:
I know that some women are delighted to read my ‘mishy, mashie rhetoric.
At the age of 86 and the encroaching aphasia, rattling my brain, I can only offer another re-run.
IT’S VALENTINE TIME [[Vocational???)
To My Only Valentine
Now you know me to be nothing other, than a piece of fluff,,,,,,,
It was early on, that you razed that irascible façade of crumbling clay that was my masquerade of manliness.
You exposed me as a lovesick ‘urchin’ who needed some ‘nursin’, and that’s for ‘certain’.
[[CAN’T RESIST A RHYME!)
During those first twenty years or so, of our lives together, I silently agonized at my inability to discover a vocation. Something meaningful, something exciting, something fulfilling, and something we could do together.
Then, the Epiphany !
It came a few days after we had planted the twenty different crops in our valley garden. We were experimenting to see what vegetables would do well, in that sandy soil. We left the house early in the morning. I had some chores to do in the garage. You disappeared for over an hour. I wondered where you were. I went into the house for a cup of coffee. I looked out the valley side window, and was very alarmed to see you, on your hands and knees, in the middle of the garden. I opened the sliding door and ran down to your side.
“What are you doing?” I yelled.
You gave me that bland, exasperated look and said, “Well, what do you think I’m doing?”
That was my introduction to grubbing; for weeds, that is.
Then, later, there was the “wild blueberry” venue. Different stage but the same position. This time, “Fang,” [[our faithful dog,) was standing guard over you as he always did when you were out of sight of the house.
[[A short digression: In the picking of wild blueberries, I cannot think of an intelligent analogy, but perhaps this one will do: Fill a salt shaker and then empty it on the kitchen floor and then proceed to go a round, on your hands and knees, and start picking the salt up, grain by grain.)
So be it. As you were walking back to the house, I noticed you let Fang dip his snout into the small bucket every few feet. By the time you got to the house there were only a few berries and a lot of mush in the bottom of the bucket.
I exclaimed, a bit loudly, “Why on earth are you letting Fang eat all of the berries?
You replied, “Well, Fang was doing his job, protecting me, and he deserved a little reward.”
More than a little chagrined, I asked you, “if I went with you the next time you picked berries, could I eat some of them on the way home?”
And you replied, “Of course you can, provided you can get your head into the bucket!
In that instant, I knew I had discovered the vocation I could never conjure before.
I knew that my life long vocation was meant to be, “You.”
To love you. To care for you. To protect you. And mostly, To learn from you!
. Something meaningful, something exciting, something fulfilling, and something we could do together.
