The names and other identifying markers have been changed to protect the innocent…
I had one of those fruitcake “eureka” moments about relationships not long ago, and I’m still laughing about it.
We’d taken the Harley to a weekend music festival in Milwaukee. As we walked around hand in hand on a warm summer afternoon, I recognized a “person of stature” I’d been acquainted with years before. Introductions were made and pleasantries and handshakes and polite conversation were all around.
The sun was shining, the streets were clean, and the music was good. This middle-aged and good-looking Master of the Universe was looking sleek and happy and content in his own neighborhood, tanned and quite relaxed in a polo shirt and khakis. He rules his white collar world with authority. And he’s a VERY nice person to boot!!
My wonderful guy, on the other hand, has callused hands and is equally at home using a chainsaw or planting some coneflowers. And neither of us will ever make a society page.
We parted company a few minutes later and went to find another music stage and people-watch. And I suddenly had a thought that cracked me up. That if both these guys were dropped into the middle of the deep woods with a Leatherman tool apiece, Mr. Top-of-the-Urban-Food-Chain would be eaten by squirrels in five minutes. And the one holding my hand would be building a shelter, hanging some shelves, making a fire and then possibly starting a garden.
And I know which one I’d rather find myself lost in the woods with!