Homonyms with the Duchess & friends

The world is full of contentious and controversial news right now. There's plenty to write about but more than enough people writing about it. We need something to pick us up and lighten things up a bit.

And we're in luck. Because I was sitting in a local chicken establishment enjoying the final few bites of a country ham biscuit, and catching up on Twitter (@BiscuitsGA), when what to my wondering eyes should appear? Her royal highness, the Duchess of Paddlefoot, Janeal Picklesimer along with her sidekick, Loucilla Pickens and their husbands, Carl and Buck, respectively.

The quartet ordered their breakfast and found their seats, luckily close enough for me to overhear the conversation. 

"I tell you what", Loucilla started, "this Common Cord stuff at Junior's school is 'bout outta hand. He done come home tellin' me that they's learnin' bout homonyms. I'm gonna go up to that school today and tell 'em that I think they need to work on readin' and math and leave them homosectionals in the movies. It's like they're takin over the world. We don't need them in our schools."

Carl looked up for a second but then went back to his breakfast. Buck didn't even pause. No time for frivolous talking. They needed to eat and get to work. You know how you pass the work crews on the roadside and there's about eight people watching that one guy in the hole working his can off? Yeah. These two aren't part of the eight. They're the ones welding, wrenching, hammering. They're best friends and can communicate effectively with facial expressions, gestures and the occasional grunt. The pair once built a fishing dock in three hours with two hammers, a circular saw, a box of nails, and only 4 audible words, one of which was "beer". 

"Homonyms ain't got nothin to do with that, Loucilla. They's words that sound like other words." My ears really perked up. Janeal has some education! Then she continued, "Think about rainch. Buck used a rainch to fix your plummin when the toilet backed up into your kitchen sank. And then all that nasty stuff drained back down the pipes. Then you had to rainch out all that gross stuff that was left sticking to the sides of it. And then you got this here rainch dressin that I'm dippin my fries in. And then there's that rainch where we rode horses in Mawn-tana."

I was almost in tears. Then Lucilla grasped the concept.

"Oh, like how we're sittin in these cheers eatin breakfast and we used to be cheerleaders in school."

"Yep. And how the water level in the sank sank when Buck fixed it."

Lucilla laughed "Ooh, and tar! Like the tars on the car and the road is made of tar too. And those two go together! What do you call it when somethin like that happens? It's umm, umm, oh yeah, moronic!"

"No, not moronic, Ironic. Moronic is those people from Utah on the bicycles that run from my dog when they come to my door."

That was all I could do. If I stayed any longer, I was going to bust out laughing and then Carl and Buck would feel compelled to beat me with a rainch...er...wrench.

Until next time...

Behind Every Great Man...

I know what you're thinking. "Oh great. He's writing again. I bet he's been hanging out in one of those creepy cemeteries again."

And you'd be right. I've probably spent too much time in cemeteries lately and it looks like there's more in store. I'm cool with it because so many of the people that I find interesting are dead.

My mom says it's because I have an old soul.

But you're in luck. That's not what this post is about. This post is about life and one of the most important lessons I've learned in life. I didn't learn it in school. I didn't learn it from a book or a documentary or a battlefield tour or a museum.

I learned it from life.

A few weeks ago, I was part of a discussion with a young man who was explaining a recent break-up. The girl is beautiful and we discussed what a great personality she had. We talked about how many guys would love to date the young lady. We might have even questioned his judgement just a bit but then conceded that he was the one that had to live with the decision, either way. He told us that the biggest cause for the relationship's demise was the fact that they were "too good as friends to be involved in that way."

Hmm.

Now, I'm a guy. My friends are guys. Some are coworkers and some I met in college. I met some at church and some I met online. I'm blessed to have two that have known me about as long as I've known myself - so much so that I just think of them as two of my brothers. It's good to have these friendships as the world can be a cruel, lonely place. A friend is someone that you can disagree with, argue with, fight and even, at times, say some of the worst things imaginable. But then it passes. you're both still there. For me, a friend is someone that you know you can count on no matter what. Thick and thin, good and bad, friends are there.

Over the last 16 years, give or take, I have learned that my best friend is not a guy. She lives at my house. My kids look a little like her. We've been through thin and bad and dark and scary and even a little bit of miserable. That's not to say that there hasn't been good times. We have had some very good times but we've had a least our share of challenges. And what we have learned from that is that we can count on each other.

It's not thought to be very masculine for a guy to speak of his wife that way. We are supposed to think that women are attractive and beautiful and nice and fun to touch but they get on our nerves and we don't want the rest of the guys to think we like them all that much. I guess that even while we re staring 40 in the face we still fear catching cooties or something. But I've reached a point in my life that as I look at the years ahead and know what challenges lie before me (as well as wonder about those which I don't know about) and the prospect of old age that I have one person in my corner, in my foxhole, at me side.

Looking at history we see men that thought similarly about their mates like Robert Toombs, John Adams, Ronald Reagan and "Stonewall" Jackson. Even George Burns was missing something without Gracie by his side. I've seen lesser known men go through the loss of their spouse and the agony is causes. I've seen men with wives fighting horrible ailments and what it does to them. We act tough but, deep down, we know the truth. When you find the right one, it's right.

All of these men went through their own struggles, fought their own demons, had their own faults and shortcomings but they they had their best friend for a pat on the back, a hand to hold or a letter from home at the right moment. They found themselves involved in violent battles, travelling in far distant lands, exiled due to unfortunate political arrangements. When they were old, blind and sick, having their minds and bodies ravaged by cruel and torturous illnesses, their lifelong companions were there, by their side "until death do us part". And if their wife preceded them in death, nothing on this planet was ever completely right again.

That's why you marry your best friend.

So back to the youngster. I started to speak to him, to try to talk some sense in him but I remembered what I was taught about singing lessons for pigs and just decided to let it go. The poor guy will learn the lesson like I did. He'll be ok.

As for me, if I'm facing down the British Redcoats, marauding Yankees, a tough audience or a towering inferno, I'm glad to know that I have my version of Julia, Abigail, Nancy, Mary Anna or yes, even Gracie and if the day comes that we're too old or feeble for the type of relationship the youngster is looking for, that we'll still laugh together, cry together and love each other as ever and that we'll still have each other.

And that's what's important.