Raw Drip

As my posse was driving to Chick-fil-A for “Kids Eat Free” Tuesday somehow the topic shifted to who’s the coolest person each of us has ever known.  Reliably, Adam’s was Shaggy from Scooby Doo and Tabitha’s was her friend, Charlie.  I didn’t need to hesitate with my response. 

Immediately I declared that Dick was the coolest person I’d ever know.  I meant it, too – -from the bottom of my heart.  He is, without a doubt, the coolest person in the world to me.  My charming, smart, funny, kind and beloved Dick.

I smiled and gazed over at my handsome husband, stroking his cheek with my fingertips.  Dick smiled back at me and said, “Kids, your grandfather is by far the coolest person I’ve ever known.”

“OUCH!”, I exclaimed in faux agony.  “Your father is the coolest person you’ve ever known?  How can that be?  Where am I on the cool-o-meter?”

Dick squirmed slightly in his chair.

“For a chick, you’re definitely cool.”

“Okaaay…still in pain over here…”

Dick rolled his eyes.  “You’re completely misunderstanding what I’m saying.  I think we have two very different interpretations of ‘cool’.  You are wonderful, clever, thoughtful and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“And that doesn’t make me cool?”

“That makes you the most wonderful person I’ve ever known,” Dick said, caressing my hand.

“Well, for the record, you are both the coolest AND the most wonderful person I’ve ever know,” I replied.

Dick sighed and looked at me with that annoyed expression that told me I was fast falling off his “most wonderful person” list, as well. 

“What?  It’s not like I have anything to lose now that I know I’m not cool.”

“Fine, then.  You’re cool.  Can we change the subject now?”

“I don’t want your token cool, I want to be ‘the coolest ever’!  Because you insisted on relegating me to merely wonderful, I’m going to rescind my description of you as the coolest person ever and choose someone who worships me with more enthusiasm than you’re  interested in showing.”

“Who would that be?” Dick asked in a voice full of condescension.

“I haven’t decided yet.  I’m trying to give you time to reconsider your previous statement about my coolness.”

“Sam, you REALLY need to let it go…Really.”

My dear friend Edna Lee is getting married in a few weeks and she has chosen yours truly to be her matron of honor.

(Personally, I wouldn’t be my first choice for the wedding photos, but I guess Ed likes to walk on the wild side.)

Of course, I’m thrilled for my friend and honored to be a part of her wedding,  And still thrilled & honored despite Ed’s recent request order for me to write & deliver a speech during her wedding reception.

While I’m incredibly flattered by her faith in my writing & speaking abilities – I’m all too aware that it’s her wedding day.  This is a big deal.  This is not the time for one of my quirky quips.  As a writing challenge, I’m more than a bit humbled and awed by the great responsibility…

*****

After Ed nixed my initial suggestion of an x-rated limerick on the grounds that her mother would disapprove, I was forced to re-examine my approach.  I began pretending that I’m a really skilled wordsmith and brilliant creative writer.  WWJAD (what would Jane Austen do)?

When channeling Jane Austen didn’t stir up any big ideas, I went back to the basics.  As with all design, you need to start with a good concept and let it grow.  I began by running through a list of possibilities:

• A heart-warming poem?  Nope, not Ed’s style.
• A collection of famous quotes about love?  Nice, but shouldn’t this be more about Ed’s love?
• A stirring tribute to the power of love?  That just demands mockery from my wickedly witty friend.
• A PowerPoint presentation with marriage tips?  Definitely more her style and it’s cute.  Unfortunately, maybe too cute…

Frustrated and devoid of inspiration, I decided to comb through boxes of old high school mementos in search of ideas.  Amongst the folded notes and yellowing photos, I discovered my small collection of year books dating back to junior high.  As I opened the cover from my 1989 high school yearbook, I found it – inspiration from a very unlikely source – Dick.

There, on the inside cover of my annual, written in the 3rd grader scrawl I’m just now learning to decipher, is this most ardent expression of love:

Samantha,

The evolution of spam is usually a topic best left to the extremely educated members of the scientific community, but today I’ll relate this story in layman’s terms for you, my sweetheart…

SPAM IS THE AMBROSIA OF THE GODS!!!

(Just kidding – I think!)

Anyway, I can’t wait to have another great year with you in my arms and in my life. I love you.

P.S. I want my (BEEP) to (BEEP) your (BEEP).

P.P.S. I can’t think of much to say – obviously – so I’ll just say infinite hugs and kisses coming your way.

Never before or since have feelings of love been so eloquently expressed on the page.  Feeling weak in the knees, aren’t you?

Okay, so it’s mostly the ramblings of a Monty Python-obsessed, love-struck teen boy.  But there – amongst the spam – is also Dick’s trademark playfulness, his intelligence, and his immensely loyal spirit.  Everything I ever needed to know about my future husband was in that note in my high school yearbook and only now do I appreciate it in all it’s goofy, spam-handed glory.  As well, everything Ed ever needed to know about her soon-to-be husband is already out there – in an email, an expression, or maybe in a moment that passed between them somewhere along their journey together.

Pushing aside all my cute concepts and pithy prose, the only meaningful thing I can say to my friend on her wedding day is that this constant rediscovery of her lover is the gift of marriage.  It’s a gift that unfolds day in and day out over time, revealing itself in ways old and new, subtle and delightful and it’s theirs to have and hold, from this day forward.

I’m thinking this should be required viewing for all Ikea haters, fans, & virgins alike.  Besides, it’s got a good beat and I can dance to it…