Today is Sweetest Day. The finest example of mass marketing hysteria every created. Where else in the world could such hype be thought up? Only a true evil genius would concoct a holiday that masquerades as a celebration of romance, when its nothing more than a sham to enrich the greeting card companies. There can be no finer example of capitalism.
Yet, I am given pause and my days of wooing my lovely wife come to mind.
What? How did a guy like me, manage to get such a wonderful and beautiful lady like Farah? In a word: CHARISMA. ( I hear all that laughter, knock it off! I'll have you know, there were many a young lady smitten with my James Bond like charm and style. Stop laughing!) Let me enlighten you with a tale of our first date.
For those of you who don't know, Farah and I live here in Appalachia. Everyone who knows anything, knows that Appalachia is the most blessed place upon this green Earth. (Sociological and Archaeological studies have time and again placed Appalachia as the most likely spot for the Garden of Eden. I kid you not.) The big city where Farah and I lived when we first met, had some of the most chic and sophisticated establishments for romancing a lady.
In our city, there was no more fashionable or trendy eating establishment than Nick's Diner. Nick, the chef and owner of the Diner, had studied at the finest restaurants in Europe.( He was destine for the big time of the culinary world. His face and name were known to all the epicurean fat cats...that was till the Foie Gras Catastrophe of '83 in Schaan, Liechtenstein. Shunned by the gastronomical elite, Nick turned his back on the gourmet world he once ruled and brought the height of culture to our city.) Always one to be prepared, I had called ahead to reserve two stools with the best view of the palette Nick used to create his master pieces, the grill. With the delectable fragrance from the greasy grill wafting over us, my hands danced in the air, seductively wooing Farah with signs of flirtatious intrigue, spiced with passionate affections as only a CODA coquettishly smitten can manage. Before we knew it, Nick plopped his signature plate, "European Sampler", before us. Deftly Nick unscrewed the wine bottle and poured it into the matching jelly jars, then he served us. What could have been more romantic for a first date than a European dinner, accompanied by the fizziest wine from the fertile grape fields of Lodi, Ohio?
After dinner, I whisked Farah away to see a movie. Like Fred Astaire I gracefully dance down the street, all the while poetically signing sweet nothings into Farah's alluring brown eyes. All I could see was total adoration shinning from her eyes... that was till fate delt me a crushing blow and suddenly, without the slightest warning, stuck a newspaper box out in front of me. Unable to rip my eyes from Farah's captivation smile, I struck the demon newspaper box and inelegantly hobbled around, attempting as best I could to keep my suave persona intact. There was no choice but to look away, so as not to let her see the unmannly look on my face as pain ripped through my screaming knee and raced to my mortified brain. When I was able to gaze back into those saulty eyes, where I once saw loving veneration, I now saw, and heard, uncontrollable laughter. ( Hey, you try keeping a Sean Connery debonairness when your fighting the urge to cry like a little girl.)
Limpingly, I made it into the movie theatre with Farah holding me up. We picked an action packed movie. Action movies are much more deaf friendly, eliminating mind bogglingly long scenes of heartfelt dialogue that sucks all the enjoyment, and comprehrnsion, out of an uncaptioned movie. As luck would have it though, Buster the Projectionist left the projector on after the afternoon matinee, thereby burning out the filiment within the projection bulb. Being as in love as we were, that didn't damper our evening, so we walked around downtown, hand-in-hand, signing. ( That was not easy as you would think. You try walking hand-in-hand all the while signing and keeping an eye out for demon newspaper boxes. Trust me, it isn't easy.) Finally we made our way to Pop' Caffee and Fillin' Station for the best coffee in our fair city. Sitting at the counter of Pop's, it was made clear to me that this lady, who I was making goo goo eyes with, had ended my carefree days of bachlorhood.
The last part of our first Sweetest Day was spent driving up into the hills outside of our town. It wasn't hard to impress Farah with my car. I was the proud owner of a 1974 Volkswagen Thing. Bright yellow, four door, rag top to be precise. One of the finest examples of German engineering ever known. Nothing sets a romantic tone like the distinctive putters of a Volkswagen's air cooled, four cylinder motor. That is till you run out of gas. ( Here again is a hazard of signing and driving. All my attention was on what Farah was signing to me, so I never noticed the fuel gage. ) Being stuck on the side of a hill in the dark with a lady as stupefyingly beatiful as Farah was not an unpleasant time. After watching the stars for a time, we pushd the car till gravity helped and we coasted down hill and into town. ( Do you really think I would elaborate on what we were doing on that hillside at night? I think not.)
We have had many Sweetest Days since that first one, but none as memorable. That day set a pattern of hand holding, fine dining and Farah laughing uncontrollably at my slapstick blunders at the hands of demon newspaper boxes. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Yet, I am given pause and my days of wooing my lovely wife come to mind.
What? How did a guy like me, manage to get such a wonderful and beautiful lady like Farah? In a word: CHARISMA. ( I hear all that laughter, knock it off! I'll have you know, there were many a young lady smitten with my James Bond like charm and style. Stop laughing!) Let me enlighten you with a tale of our first date.
For those of you who don't know, Farah and I live here in Appalachia. Everyone who knows anything, knows that Appalachia is the most blessed place upon this green Earth. (Sociological and Archaeological studies have time and again placed Appalachia as the most likely spot for the Garden of Eden. I kid you not.) The big city where Farah and I lived when we first met, had some of the most chic and sophisticated establishments for romancing a lady.
In our city, there was no more fashionable or trendy eating establishment than Nick's Diner. Nick, the chef and owner of the Diner, had studied at the finest restaurants in Europe.( He was destine for the big time of the culinary world. His face and name were known to all the epicurean fat cats...that was till the Foie Gras Catastrophe of '83 in Schaan, Liechtenstein. Shunned by the gastronomical elite, Nick turned his back on the gourmet world he once ruled and brought the height of culture to our city.) Always one to be prepared, I had called ahead to reserve two stools with the best view of the palette Nick used to create his master pieces, the grill. With the delectable fragrance from the greasy grill wafting over us, my hands danced in the air, seductively wooing Farah with signs of flirtatious intrigue, spiced with passionate affections as only a CODA coquettishly smitten can manage. Before we knew it, Nick plopped his signature plate, "European Sampler", before us. Deftly Nick unscrewed the wine bottle and poured it into the matching jelly jars, then he served us. What could have been more romantic for a first date than a European dinner, accompanied by the fizziest wine from the fertile grape fields of Lodi, Ohio?
After dinner, I whisked Farah away to see a movie. Like Fred Astaire I gracefully dance down the street, all the while poetically signing sweet nothings into Farah's alluring brown eyes. All I could see was total adoration shinning from her eyes... that was till fate delt me a crushing blow and suddenly, without the slightest warning, stuck a newspaper box out in front of me. Unable to rip my eyes from Farah's captivation smile, I struck the demon newspaper box and inelegantly hobbled around, attempting as best I could to keep my suave persona intact. There was no choice but to look away, so as not to let her see the unmannly look on my face as pain ripped through my screaming knee and raced to my mortified brain. When I was able to gaze back into those saulty eyes, where I once saw loving veneration, I now saw, and heard, uncontrollable laughter. ( Hey, you try keeping a Sean Connery debonairness when your fighting the urge to cry like a little girl.)
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| Buster the Projection |
The last part of our first Sweetest Day was spent driving up into the hills outside of our town. It wasn't hard to impress Farah with my car. I was the proud owner of a 1974 Volkswagen Thing. Bright yellow, four door, rag top to be precise. One of the finest examples of German engineering ever known. Nothing sets a romantic tone like the distinctive putters of a Volkswagen's air cooled, four cylinder motor. That is till you run out of gas. ( Here again is a hazard of signing and driving. All my attention was on what Farah was signing to me, so I never noticed the fuel gage. ) Being stuck on the side of a hill in the dark with a lady as stupefyingly beatiful as Farah was not an unpleasant time. After watching the stars for a time, we pushd the car till gravity helped and we coasted down hill and into town. ( Do you really think I would elaborate on what we were doing on that hillside at night? I think not.)