A good life doesn’t require much. Quiet moments with coffee, sitting across the table from a loved one, will take you most of the way.”
–John Deacon (Lobo)
Get yurself in here Pard! There’s a little chubby flyin’ imp shootin’ arrows at people. Nah, I’m jist a-joshin’ yuh, but there’s a whole lotta nonsense goin’ on today with the foolishness of cupid. The Greeks with all their so-called wisdom shor enough did have plenty of foolishness as well, but that’s a story for another Saturday. Soon as I get yur coffee poured I’m goin’ be philosophizin’ with yuh some.
Ahhh, let me take a large swaller befores I get started. Love, what is it? Most people have it all confused and even for us unconfused ones it is still a grand mystery. The missus will tell yuh–“honey, I love yuh,” then go right around and say, ‘oh, I jist love these shoes.” What does that make a person? Tell me if’n yuh know, an ol’ worn out shoe? I love ice cream, plain ol’ vanilla–I love the cats–I love my wife–I love God. Hmmm, and then throw on it the idea that I jist love my coffee along with a piece of pie. Love, love, love…
Don’t be sittin’ thar with yur mouth open – at least be fillin’ it with that strong coffee. I want to be tellin’ two things that I think is true of love. Shor thar’s more, but I want to tell yuh two things I think is true. First un, love is a mystery. No question since yuh can’t rightly define it, it must be a mystery. It’s sorta like a package that yur given. Finely wrapped with pretty paper, the edges all perfectly tucked in, an’ it’s all wrapped with a pretty ribbon an’ gorgeous bow. See, love will sometimes come at yuh as a pretty package. It gets yur attention; yur heart goes pitter-pat, and yur gizzard thump-thump. My, my, yuh even might start to drool an’ that’s all ‘fores yuh begin to unwrap it.
It’s done up so nicely yuh don’t tear it open, but yuh begin to gently unpeel it until all that’s ‘fore yuh is a box full of something. Pard, that’s it–it’s full of all sorts of things. Things that’ll make yuh laugh, some that’ll make yuh cry. Some will be bringin’ yuh joy, an’ some will have sadness attached to it, but Pard, as shor as yur sittin’ there drinkin’ coffee it’s all love. Funny thing how folks say they fall in love, an’ I ain’t a-doubtin’ them none, but what I don’t gather in my thick-skull is the fact that they can fall out of love as well. Don’t register with my pea-brain. If’n it’s love how do yuh fall out of it? My ain’t it a glorious thing that the good Lord don’t fall out of love with us–He’s jist not all that fickle.
Let me take another sip, then I be goin’ on. Mmmm, pure delight–just like love. Now, here’s the second thing I know ’bout love. Not only is it a mysterious phenomenon, but in my way of thinkin’ it is also a gift. Jist like that thar package I mentioned. It’s a wonderful gift. Why is it yuh can love one person an’ not another? Now, that’s jist bein’ real. Only the Lord loves everybody the same, an’ I realize that it don’t say nothin’ in the Good Book ’bout it bein’ a gift, but it has to be. Thar’s some folk out there that are jist plain unlovable. Only the Lord can give yuh the gift to love them. Some of these folk that get up an’ spout off, “I love y’all,” jist fried my bacon. They don’t! They say it, they might think they mean it, but they don’t know a lick of what they’re talkin’ ’bout. Now, true, one of them true evangelists that is called in the Church might have that special love, an’ I know we’re supposed to love, but it’s downright hard sometimes, that’s why I’m a-sayin’ that it has to be a gift from the Lord to love everyone.
Now, I’ve done run out of space, an’ yuh’ve run out of time an’ need to be gettin’ on down the road. But say, Pard, did yuh love my coffee this mornin’? Did it give yur gizzard fits? Let me tell yuh as yur a-leavin’ that Annie and I are spendin’ our fifty-sixth Valentines together. My mercy, Pard, that’s love. The good, the bad, along with some ugly. She’s stuck with me through all the dust that’s been thrown up over the years of travelin’ this journey of life. Whoooeee, and I wouldn’t trade it for nothin’. My ol’ rundown heart still palpitates with thought of her, an’ her bein’ by my side.
Pard, yuh take care this week. Tell someone yuh truly love them, then act like it. I love yuh ‘nough to be tellin’ yuh to check yur cinch. No need to be reachin’ those pearly gates ‘fore yur called.
Vaya con Dios.