Category: Holidays

Valentine’s Day — Lovers Edition

lovers

In the 21st century, we’re scared of love.  It has sticky bits and awkward edges.  It defies our science and our psychology and laughs at our technology.  There is no App for love, and it refuses to do as it’s told.  It’s the last rebellious relic of our primitive soul.

So, I’ve written a poem for all hopeless romantics (like me) who’ve had a howl and a dance with love — when the fire was bright and the music was high; who’ve kissed in the shadows so tenderly that the darkness held its breath and those (like me) who’ve ached and sighed and laugh and cried — for love.

The one you knew you shouldn’t
The one you thought you should
The one you thought you couldn’t
The one you wish you could

The one that you’ve forgiven
The one you won’t forget
The one who made you laugh and sing
The one you most regret

But when you’re old and going grey
And napping by the fire
There’s only one who has your heart
As well as your desire

Now, let me explain.  (BTW, I’ve seriously mixed up the genders because, even though I believe love is different for men and women, the results are identical.)

The One You Knew You Shouldn’t — This is the one that you took one look at and knew — right away — it was a bad idea.  But you couldn’t help yourself.  Normally, this involves your best friend’s boyfriend or your boss’s little sister.

The One You Thought You Should — That perfect person who, six months later, turned into the Bitch of Belsen.  Or, it’s almost as if somebody photo-shopped this guy’s personality — and it wore off.

The One You Thought You Couldn’t — “Wow!  What the hell was he doing with me?”  Or, that chick was so hot when you slept with her you got a suntan.  Affairs like this never last because eventually these perfect human beings go back to their own species.

The One You Wish You Could — Deep in the heart of 4 o’clock in the morning, we all have that one secret love that nobody — nobody — except, maybe, the dog and your pillow, knows about.

The One That You’ve Forgiven — This is the lover who slam-dunked your heart onto the sofa for three months of red wine, Rocky Road and Rom/Com therapy. But, looking back, you kinda shrug and think, “Ah! It takes two.”

The One You Won’t Forget — Everybody has at least one love affair that flares like a supernova.  In extreme cases, you end up in Vegas or Mexico, swimming in libido, drunk off your ass on moonlight and margaritas, and thinking “When this goes bad, I’m going to burn up on re-entry — but I don’t care.”

The One Who Made You Laugh And Sing — When we were young and our hearts were an open book. . .  But, now, you might have a name but you can’t quite remember the face.

The One You Most Regret — What were you thinking?  You chased this guy relentlessly — even though everybody on the planet told you he was bad news.  Then, when you finally hooked up, she used you like a Swiffer WetJet and dumped your ass in the trash the minute something else came along.  (You’re never going to get that year back, ya idiot!)

And finally:

The last stanza is self-explanatory.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

The Much Maligned Mistress

nell-gwyn

Today, in North America, it’s Groundhog Day.  For those of you who are unfamiliar, this is the day when a select group of small-town politicians and business people get their 15 minutes of fame by torturing a rodent.  You can read about it here.  The day has no other redeeming qualities except Harold Ramis made a decent movie out of it.  However, and much more importantly, today is also Nell Gwyn’s birthday.  Again, for the unfamiliar, Nell Gwyn was the most famous of King Charles II’s numerous mistresses. (He had about a dozen.)

So, to hell with the rodent.  Here’s a brief look at one of the most forgotten heroines of history — the mistress.

Diane de Poitiers — She became Henry II’s mistress when he was 16 and she was 35 and basically ran the show in France for the next 24 years!  She even wrote most of his official correspondence and signed it HenriDiane.  When Henry married Catherine de’ Medici, a woman he didn’t even like, Madame de Poitiers practically pushed Henry into Catherine’s bed to ensure the continuation of the dynasty.  (They had 10 children!)

Aspasia of Miletus — There is a lot of speculation (from folks like Plato and Plutarch) that Pericles’ mistress Aspasia was such a brilliant conversationalist that she may have “helped” him write some of his famous speeches.

Alice Keppel — She became Edward VII’s mistress when he was 57 — old, fat, a closet alcoholic and grumpy with gout.  Why she put up with him is impossible to know, but even the British Prime Minister Asquith thanked her for her “wise counsel.”  Coincidentally, Mrs. Keppel is the great-grandmother of Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, who was Prince Charles’ mistress before, during and after his turbulent marriage to Princess Diana.

Barbara Palmer — She became Charles II’s mistress while he was still in exile and practically ordered him to accept the throne when Cromwell finally had the good sense to die.  By all accounts, Mrs. Palmer was bossy, bad-tempered and promiscuous.  (She even had an affair with her cousin John Churchill.)  However, she got things done, including “suggesting” Charles declare war on Holland in 1665 and pushing a lot of people around to get London rebuilt after The Great Fire.  Eventually, Charles had to dump her because she was Catholic.  Two of Barbara Palmer’s descendents are the late Diana, Princess of Wales and Sarah, Duchess of York.

Which brings us to Nell Gwyn

Nell Gwyn — As the mistress of Charles II, Nell Gwyn was the very soul of the Restoration.  She was witty and urbane, danced, sang, gambled and helped make England fun again after the dreary days of Oliver Cromwell.  Plus, unlike Barbara Palmer, she kept her mouth shut.  In fact, Nell Gwyn was so good at her job that she’s the only royal mistress ever publically immortalized with a statue.  It’s on Sloane Street, Chelsea.

These days “mistress” is one of those bogeyman words.  It upsets our puritanical view of female sexuality and makes us vaguely uncomfortable.  The problem is, because our society’s sexual sophistication is limited to Kim Kardashian flashing her ass across Instagram, we simply can’t get past the idea that a “mistress” could be anything more than a high-priced hooker.  Guess again!  Nothing could be further from the truth.

So, rodent, go back in your hole.  I’m celebrating mistresses!

2018 — You’re Goin’ Be A Good Year!

2018

OMG! I’m old enough to remember when 2001 was science fiction, so 2018 is beginning to stretch the limits of my imagination.  When I was a kid, 2018, if it happened at all, was going to be a bleak combination of all the best bits of Logan’s Run, Soylent Green, Death Race 2000 and A Clockwork Orange.  In short, as a know-it-all 20-something, I didn’t think we were actually going to get this far.  However, here we are — and we survived 1984, Y2K and the Mayan Calendar.  Not bad considering that, at various times, half the population was convinced all three of them were going to wipe us out.

Here’s the deal: humans are a resilient species.  Unlike every other mammal on this planet, we have the ability to adapt to whatever difficulties Mother Nature and our own inherent stupidity throw in our path.  Plus, we have the audacity to challenge the awesome power of our unforgiving universe and the skill to bend it to our will.  Again, not bad considering half the population gets its information from Twitter — 140 characters at a time.

The trick is, human beings are the sum of their parts.  For every Kim Jong-un threatening to turn our children into nuclear French fries, there are ten Dutch engineers turning wind into electricity so those same kids won’t choke on industrial waste.  For every Boko Haram, there are ten Nigerian dads taking the early bus so their daughters can go to school.  And for every stupid Trump tweet, there are at least ten Americans, out there somewhere, saying WTF? — because in the entire history of human existence, for every dark slice of yesterday there’s always been a whole new tomorrow.

I lost my after-dinner pessimism somewhere between Maggie Thatcher and the Fall of the Berlin Wall.  And although, these days, it’s soul crushing to watch a snarling pack of self-important middleclass slacktivists systematically dismantling the Enlightenment, I refuse to surrender my optimism.  Saner heads will prevail!  They always have, and I believe they always will.  So, 2018, come ahead!  You’re gonna be a good year: I can feel it.