BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Part 1 of 12…

What’s a nice girl like you… Doin’ married to that guy?

We’ll get to that in a minute. Right now I just have to say that I absolutely loved that bit from The Princess Bride.

“Mahwage…Mahwage is what bwings usth togethwerrrr …tooooo-dayyyyyy.”

Of course, I actually got a huge kick out of the whole movie. I even own the DVD… But, like usual, I didn’t come here to talk to you about a 1987 comedy. Well, not one that spent time on the big screen, anyway…

The reality is this: I get asked, more often than you can imagine, how it is that E K and I met up, “lell in fuhve”, and came to be hitched. I fully suspect that there is a kind of interest there born of circus sideshows. You know, the train wreck awe of seeing “Timmy the ape boy” or “Lulu the tattooed lady”. What I mean is, my guess would be what’s really going through their minds at the time is, “How in the hell did a troll like you end up with a hot babe like her?” But, in the end that is really just my own self-deprecating insecurity showing through.

I usually tell myself to ignore what my off-kilter grey matter “thinks” they are asking and simply answer the query with an abbreviated rendition of the  true and bizarre tale. You know, just enough to tell them what time it is in at least four geographical zones, but not quite enough to explain exactly how to build a clock. However there is an inherent problem with that approach, because more often than not it just ends up begging a few more questions. And then a few more… And then a few more…  Until finally, the entire story has been told, albeit in a roundabout and somewhat disjointed fashion – and as always, leaving out something or even some things entirely, simply because the discombobulated sequence has confused me and I forgot.

The truth is, the full span of our story is semi-complicated. I say semi because it isn’t really fraught with major complexities – just a few bumps, a couple of dips, a hill or two, a small mountain, and a handful of incidents that read like a script for an episode of a sitcom. All in all, no different than anyone else’s “love story”, other than the fact that it’s our story, and not their story. Know what I mean?

Because it truly is a FAQ when I am on the road, and even in email from interested fans, I had this bright idea that maybe I should blog about it.  Get the story out in the open and in a chronological, coherent fashion so that the next time I am asked I can say,  “Here’s the thumbnail sketch, but if you want the whole story, then you should read my blog…” I mean, how’s that for a segue to my website, eh? (no, not the mall cop electric two wheeler thingy – I’m talking about the  actual meaning of the word and all that).

Besides, when you get right down to it there is also that whole dying brain cell factor to consider. I mean, since I’m getting old and stuff like that, it might be  time to think about recording these important memories for posterity (or, posterior as the case may be) before I lose them for good. I mean, hey, my kid might need something to laugh at in her later years when I am in Depends^TM, drooling all over myself, and being a burden on her. (You see, I think E K will probably still be a hot babe and most likely have run off with “Ricardo the Pool Boy” at that point… I’m pretty sure I’m her picture in the attic so to speak. As the years go by, I just keep getting greyer and she keeps getting prettier…)

Well, moving on, I think we all know how bright ideas can turn out to be really intense Xenon flashes with no diffusion filter fired directly into your face, or in some cases just a really dim flashlight with almost dead batteries. It all just goes back to perspective, I suppose. At any rate, I think maybe  this particular stroke of brilliance is kind of like a whole row of  bulbs in one of those fancy, flashy signs, winking on and off in a taunting fashion. Why? Well, allow me to explain… You see, when I sat down to compose this blog, I gave it a bit of thought. First I had the initial question to answer, and then there were the often forwarded followups…

Yeah, you guessed it… Dominos began to fall, and before I knew it I realized that this “little ditty ’bout E K and Murv” was in no way something Mister Mellenkamp would be able to condense into 4 or 5 verses over  approximately 3 1/2 to 4 1/2 minutes. I mean, he’s good…real good, in my opinion. I am actually a fan… Loved Scarecrow. Great CD…

But, I really shouldn’t go off on that tangent…

You see, the thing is this story has legs – and, I mean besides those shapely gams belonging to E K herself – yet another tangent that could keep me occupied for hours, but we won’t go there in public... The simple fact of the matter is that it will take more than one song, or even music video, to do the story justice. Well… maybe if it was a music video… Hrrrmmmmm… Well, let’s just not go there either…

Seriously… it became painfully clear to me that this tale really and truly has a life of its own. One that I wasn’t going to be able to condense into one blog. Therefore, I set about the task of figuring out just what it was going to take to do it justice. Well, the answer surprised even me. All I can tell you is this – it’s way bigger than a breadbox.

And, so begins a series of blog entries. An interconnected web of how E K and I came to be a couple joined together in wedded bliss (or so they say, whoever “they” are), and moreover the insanity punctuating it all. At this stage, I have sketched outlines for 7 separate entries to tell this story. Some long, some not so long. But, in any case, 7 separate incidents throughout the process, each of which deserves its own title and place in history. Some of them are funny,  some of them are simply Hallmark Channel^TM sappy, and others are just plain “WTF” moments. But, in the end, the real point is they are all 100% true, with witnesses and everything…

And, just so we are clear, I’m not going to guarantee that the number of entries involved here won’t grow to 10, or even 12 before everything is said and done… it could happen. I am, after all, a “writer of books”, and the process kind of does that fluctuating thing at times. But, right now, I can almost assure you that there will be a minimum of 7 over and above this introduction.

So, what I would like to do now is start you off with a picture.  A picture from the first page of our wedding album (note: we did not hire a professional photographer for the basic reason that we couldn’t afford it, therefore all of our pictures in the album are candid and amateur… but, we feel that captures the moment even better than if they were truly posed.) When E K reads this blog she just might beat me about the head and shoulders for showing this pic to the world, what with it not being the most flattering of them, for either of us. But, I think it sets a tone that you will come to understand as this blog series progresses… (Note – throughout this series you will see my dear and lovely referred to as E K as I do now, as well as Kathy, her given name, and even Kat, her preferred moniker… E K has become her tongue-in-cheek persona over the years, so it is just one of those things. Suffice it to say, the three names are interchangeable and refer to the same person, just in case it seems a bit confusing…)

By way of explanation, the photo below was taken in the kitchen of our  recently purchased (recent as in 1987 when the photo was taken) “Handyman’s Fixer Upper” of a house (read between the lines here – “needs to be totally gutted and completely redone”).

That would be my young and gorgeous bride on the left, running about with a container of sugar and her mouth hanging open. The guy in orange with his back to the camera would be me.  (see, I told you it wasn’t exactly flattering.) As you can see, the house needed more than just fixing up. It needed life support, which we were both willing to provide. Unfortunately, we had just purchased the money pit less than 30 days prior to this photo being taken, and had already been spending every waking hour  when not at work, refinishing hardwood floors, patching plaster walls, rewiring, and all manner of other things involved in rehabbing a house.

Oh, and the MOST IMPORTANT point. This photo was taken a mere handful of hours prior to our actual wedding ceremony and reception, all of  which took place in our partially remodeled living room, October 31st, 1987.

But, before we can get to that, we have to back up a bit and start at the beginning… A beginning which, unfortunately was a very dark day for our country and space program. And, an even more horrible day for 7 astronauts.

January 28, 1986… The day of the Challenger disaster.

I know, I know… It seems a morbid way to start a blog series about love, romance, and marriage, but certain events in our lives are impressed upon us like technicolor still frames, individual in a sense, but interconnected by a thin thread that ties everything together and makes us whole…

More to come…

Murv

… NEXT: Mahwage: Love At First Sight…

Whoever has it, stick the damn thing in and let’s get this holiday stuff over with…

Yeah, I’m obviously a bit of a curmudgeon about this whole festive holiday season thing. Those of you who know me, or have been following my blogs for several years know that I haven’t always been this way. But, without going into a  long explanation, losing your parents near the holidays – too early in life and at separate times – doesn’t really endear you to Christmas, et. al.

It actually has a bit of a damping effect. But, like I said, I’m not going to go into that realm of loss, S.A.D., and all that other stuff. I’ve had my joyous and warm fun with friends and family for this season.

It’s time to move on, so I’m still looking for the gorram fork.

Of course, I am sure you are wondering what prompted me to look for the sharp tined instrument at this particular moment… Well, you see, it’s like this – I have been wracking my brain to figure out why it is we, as a society, find “comfort” in watching back to back sappy, horribly written and acted, Hallmark™  movies during the holidays…

You see, they all pretty much start out the same way. Someone is DEAD. Usually, it is a parent – mom or dad, flip a coin – but on rare occasion it is an offspring who went off to fight in Desert Storm or whatever conflict is happening at the time of the writing  – Speaking of writing, given the poor dialogue offered up in these flicks, I am thinking that writing might be too kind a word for it. But, describing it as writing sounds better than the more accurate “vomiting”.

At any rate, we always start with someone being dead. They either died last week, or 5 years ago. Span of time isn’t really important, because no matter when it was they croaked the holidays have arrived and the pain of loss has resurfaced. (I will make a concession here – This is probably the only accurate part of the movies because I can certainly relate to it)… However, from this point the rest of the overused formula kicks in, and it ain’t E=mc²…

It susses out more like this (please excuse the lack of proper notation… this blog interface is severely lacking in symbols):

Person(dead) / grief (x * y)² {[runaway] – (ghost) – {hospital} – (prison/jail)} / (love at first sight + implied sex / argument) * make up kiss / k(k²) + [food] = z

Solve for z, where x and y equal assorted male and female characters in unrequited love, self-imposed celibacy of mourning scenarios and k equals children, usually on one side of the impending relationship, but sometimes on both (hence k²)…

Well, I won’t make you get out a pencil and paper. Z always equals a happy ending. The male and female characters end up in an instant relationship – one which it is implied will stand the test of time because obviously they were meant to be together even though they had sworn an oath that they would dry up and blow away since their respective significant others met their demise via A) a car wreck B) cancer C) plane crash D) war E) all of the above.

On top of that we always have the fact that someone miraculously survives something (disease, accident, mishap), is miraculously cleared of charges for something they didn’t do, a runaway is found, or in some events the dead person comes back as a ghost for a short period of time to provide closure. Along with this the children involved are all about the new significant others, and in most cases were working behind the scenes to bring them together in the first place.

And, in the end, there is money to pay the mortgage that could never be paid, a turkey/ham on the table, gifts under the tree, implied sex, candy canes, lingerie, trips to Cancun, toys, more kids on the way, a new lease for the orphanage, a job offer, marriage, general happiness, the “bad guy” grows a heart ala “A Christmas Carol” and all manner of  sickly sweet, sugar infused woodja, woodja, woodja ad nauseum…

But, the best part is…wait for it… wait for it…It all comes together on Christmas Eve/Day…

I won’t even begin to go into the lack of research which creates glaring continuity errors, procedural errors, suspension of disbelief errors ( I mean, if you are going to ask me to suspend disbelief – which ALL of these flicks do – then make me believe enough of it that when you jump the shark I can say, “Okay, self, I’m willing to buy that in the context of this movie…)

But, you know, even though I have rambled on about the sheer stupidity of these formulaic wastes of celluloid/airwaves/cable bandwidth, we have to return to the original question – Why do we take comfort in watching these things back to back during the holidays? Yes, they show non-holiday versions at other times of the year, but when the Christmas season arrives they become constant… And, we sit in front of the tube, sipping Bailey’s ™, and watching this drivel like some kind of emotionally bankrupt zombies looking for a charge of said emotions…

Well… I have a theory.

These are the equivalent of a 50 cent roller coaster ride. We start out on a downer, climb to a high point, fear for the cardboard characters, then end in a crescendo of euphoria. Why? Because the cardboard cutouts started out in worse shape than us, then dealt with even more crap, but in the end, it all came together. Magically. Without the aid of epoxy, duct tape, or staples. It just all worked out, and after all, isn’t that what we each want? It’s not the greatest roller coaster around, but it fits in our living room and we can ride it over and over again for effect…

So, what do you think? Decent enough theory?

Of course, my other working hypothesis is that they are all just a big conspiracy by the facial/nose tissue conglomerates to make us buy more Kleenex.

More to come…

Murv