Maintaining Resale Value
I’m sitting in the back of a church service with ten minutes left before high noon. I had a crumpled bulletin in my hand covered in tally marks. The child-like script above the marks read, “Men with bald spots.” I started a new column, “Men with bad comb-overs” and Mrs. Teply took the pen away from me.
“Look you, the service has nine minutes left.” She whispered. “Can’t you put on a better show for at least that long?”
I leaned into her ear. “Baloney! No self-respecting preacher finishes exactly on time. Especially when he’s preaching on good Biblical teaching and how it relates to college football. So I’ve really got another fifteen or twenty easy.”
She cleared her throat and looked ahead.
With just a touch of theatrics, I did the same but I didn’t refocus on the sermon. Sitting just ahead of us and to the right was Samuel and Patty Berlins. Both had good posture but were sitting so close together the Oxford blue of Sam’s shirt bled straight into the baby blue strips on Patty’s blouse. Sam’s arm was around her shoulders.
In a church service, this tight proximity to your spouse was the max affection package. Any thing hotter and an usher may bump the back of your head with the corner of a new hymnal.
After church, Sam approached me. “Hey Matt, how ya doing?”
I unleashed one of the static one-liners I use when I really don’t have anything important to say. “Well, let’s see, I haven’t walked into any walls yet today so I’m doing pretty good. And you?”
He gave me a courtesy chuckle and we both pretended we had someplace to go.
As I watched Sam wander off to his next handshake, I was plagued by the question I really wanted to ask him. “How do you walk through life holding the hand of someone so ugly?” But I’ll never conjurer a smooth way to ask it.
Perhaps the more mature men among us have no difficulty accepting their wives for the person they are…but I don’t believe that for a second.
I liken it to the car a man drives. It’s blatant that men want and spend too much for nice cars. Red-blooded males love to have their pals throwing compliments and strangers stopping to look as they drive up. It’s a status symbol, a ranking.
Melissa and I were wandering about a hotel celebrating our anniversary. We strolled past a bar on our way to the restaurant and I realized I had forgotten my wallet. Melissa understandably didn’t want to go back so she stood outside the bar and waited.
When I returned she quickly took my arm. “You wouldn’t believe what just happened to me. I had two separate men come by and try to pick me up.”
“That’s wonderful news!” I laughed then squeezed her shoulders. “Why would I want to scoot around town with a woman no one else would want?”
So when a beat up car drives by the park and the crude teen-age boys praise Melissa’s features using all the latest vernacular, I give them a thumbs-up and a big smile.
June 12th, 2008 at 2:37 pm
Hey, what can I say????:)
June 12th, 2008 at 6:17 pm
Mr. T you never cease at making me laugh. i saw this website on the board at patterson and beth guye told me it was your blog. you have a new fan. by the way how far along is Mrs. T?
June 14th, 2008 at 9:41 am
eight weeks, five days…..