A MEMORABLE VALENTINE'S DAY

As we grow older, our calendar of remarkable days grows longer and often more precious to us. Many treasured Valentine celebrations have decorated my life, but the following story relates the most memorable in my life’s journey. Thank you for allowing me to share this memory with you.

Awakened by the shrill sound of the alarm, I jumped from the bed and headed for the bathroom. As usual, my brother had the room occupied, and I sat down on the edge of the bed to wait. Like a flash I remembered today was a special day. I raised my hand and the diamond ring sparkled in the morning light. The memory of the cold December evening when, my high school sweetheart of two years met me after work in Galveston, our usual routine on Tuesday evenings.  I climbed in his old 1940 Plymouth, a relic of the past, but it served as transportation with a payment he could afford. Quite a handsome “Prince in shining armor” dressed in his Navy Uniform with steel blue eyes that could make my head spin, he greeted me with a quick kiss, and we drove to a Drive-In restaurant where we ordered dinner, a hamburger and fries served by a car-hop.

As we relaxed in the comfort of the old Plymouth enjoying our dinner, we discussed the movie where I would go alone while he attended a compulsory Navy Reserve Meeting. The Korean conflict raged in 1951, and he expected deployment soon.  As always, news of the war dominated the conversation – not a particularly romantic scene. However, the moment became a memorable event in our lives as he pulled the ring from his pocket and said, “Let’s get married before I leave.” The next few weeks were hectic with parents to please and so many weighty decisions, but as the war news darkened, and the military draft expanded, the future became more fragile to our young hearts.

“You can have the bathroom, Betty Jean.” my brother interrupted my reminiscing.

“Okay, have a great day,” I responded and immediately claimed the bathroom to prepare for the day of work. A beautiful sunrise greeted me as I relaxed in the car with other passengers bound for Galveston. The chatter among them that morning included remarking about the old sailor’s adage, “Red in the morning, sailors take warning.” As I gazed out the window at the angry waves crashing on the Galveston Causeway, I noticed the dark ominous clouds gathering in the distance. Weather predictions were unreliable, and the sun sparkled on the water with the promise of a beautiful day. I thought, why did I agree to work today? Of course, we needed the money.

My boss greeted me with, “Bring your pad, we have some letters to do,” and I set aside personal thoughts, diving into my day of work. Early in the afternoon, the dark storm clouds moved in with high winds, thunder and lightning, and torrential rain. We had arranged for Shep to meet me at 4:00 pm. Old town Galveston is below sea level and protected by a seawall, and a torrential rain storm guaranteed deep water in the streets. I had been delayed and waded out of this area on several previous occasions. As I looked out the second story window to the street below, my heart sank. This no doubt will be one of those days.

I thought about the old 1940 Plymouth. Rain and water in the street would most certainly be a challenge. We had often teased about how it struggled to run even when the dew was heavy, but somehow I knew Shep would be there. This was our wedding day. After wrestling with indecision knowing deployment was imminent, we settled on Thursday, February 14^th at 8:00 pm. We had rented an apartment, arranged a three day weekend, invited a number of friends, and the hour was near.

With the crash of thunder and streaks of lightning flashing through the windows, my fellow employees gathered around my desk to honor me with gifts and best wishes. As I opened the gifts, a power outage occurred, and I remembered the comment about bad luck for the bride the rain falls upon. However, anxiety and excitement prevailed, and I struggled down the dark stairway with my gifts where, indeed, Shep waited at the curb in the deep water. He kept the engine running knowing it would never start again, and together we managed to get the packages and me in the car. We greeted each other with “let’s try to get out of here” and began the trip home, about thirteen miles. With torrents of rain pouring through the front panels, we were just as wet inside as outside. The old engine sputtered, stopped, and finally started again several times as we rolled through the streets of Galveston to higher ground.

“You should’ve stayed home today,” Shep shouted over the storm raging and thunder crashing.

“Yes, but we needed the money,” I snapped back noticing the stress levels were rising. “With all the advice I’ve heard today about bad luck with the rain, the ceremony on the down stroke of the hour, and the bride and groom seeing each other, maybe we should just call it off.” My voice cracked with emotion as I felt tears near the surface, and fear mounting in the midst of the rising water. Shep reached over to pat my hand.

“We’ll make it.” I would learn over the years that optimism was his finest characteristic, but didn’t always serve him well.

“You keep your eyes on the road; what you can see of it,” I sobbed as I trembled in the cold air (the heater didn’t work) and shifted with discomfort in the wet seat. At last we reached high ground and the thirteen mile, thirty minute trip took two hours in the slow traffic and poor visibility. Arriving home at 6:00 pm, my mother, and others who were preparing for the wedding in my parents’ parlor, grabbed me and shoved Shep back out the door into the raging storm.

“Where have you been? Do you know the time?” I burst into tears and sharply reminded them of what it’s like in Galveston on a rainy day. They expressed sympathy rushing me into my room where I collapsed on the bed. I remembered the joy of this morning when I sat in the same place. What a difference a day can make, I thought. The door opened and neighbors, along with my maid of honor, slipped into the room and began thrusting clothes and words of encouragement to me about how I needed to hurry. Someone shoved a sandwich in my hand; I took a few bites and set it aside feeling the nausea rising.

“I’m sick,” I said as the tears returned. Thinking of all the bad luck signs, I felt a reprieve remembering that for a bride to cry on her wedding day is good luck. Someone handed me Kleenex and said, “Wipe your eyes and get into this dress.” I followed all the instructions and sat before the mirror looking at my image (another sign of bad luck). That’s really not me, I thought, but just then my Dad knocked on the door. We embraced and he whispered, “I love you.”  Somehow, his words reassured me with renewed courage. As I heard the Wedding March in the background, I summoned all the poise I could muster as he escorted me down the hallway to begin my future.

The storm continued to rage with thunder crashing and lightning flashing as Shep and I said our vows. However, later after the reception, we stepped out into the night to leave; the rain had stopped, the clouds moved away, and the moon cast a silver shadow across the old Plymouth revealing the decorations our friends added to assure the whole town would recognize the newlyweds, and they had to do this in the rain storm. We dove through the shower of rice, slipped into the still very damp seats, and waved goodbye to the guests. The old Plymouth struggled to start in the aftermath of the storm, backfiring with a loud boom from the potato stuck in the tailpipe, the engine responded sputtering with the gear changes until it finally moved down the road dragging the load of noise making tin cans tied to the back bumper.  Of course, the noise attracted neighbors on the streets who waved and wished us well as we drove into the night on this special Valentine’s Day sixty-five years ago.

GOLIATH AND THE IVORY TOWER

Once upon a time, there lived a nation of rational folks who dwelt in houses, some of them spacious and elegant, some medium-sized but nice, and others smaller and maybe not so nice, although usually a comfortable roof over their heads. Most of them owned a car or truck, or at least a bicycle. These normal folks were composed of families with a father, a mother, and children. Fathers worked, mothers cared for the home, children attended public schools with honest, loving teachers who taught them how to read, write, spell, count, and treat each other with respect, but left social values to be taught at home. Fathers and mothers cared for their young’s physical needs, discipline, and nurturing which included spiritual training.

When the children grew up, they left home, found a job, and created their own homes and families. In that world every able-bodied man and some women worked, every worker paid taxes, participated in his community, and voted for leaders to maintain order and keep the community safe. Parents taught their children to be civil, law-abiding, respectful, concerned contributors to their communities. Homes provided consistent counseling and a loving safe space. Medical facilities were available, dependable, and paid for by the patrons who used the services. Communities arranged for infrastructure, care of the indigent, law enforcement, fire protection, and entertainment - all paid for by the citizens. Where did that nation of normal, rational folks go wrong?

First, as the population and the community government grew, leaders lusted for power creating a monster, we’ll call it GOLIATH,* that built an IVORY TOWER** named Washington. Disregarding the needs of the rational folks who blindly paid to support Goliath, they took advantage of the situation and found loopholes to enhance their own pet projects and bank accounts while they multiplied like rabbits and dug into their holes. Living sumptuously, they refused to leave even when voted out. Divided into factions pandering to the rational folks to take sides, Goliath thrived on confusion.

Second, although across the oceans that served as natural protection, the folks became closely involved with other countries that are ruled by their own covey of Goliaths who built even more powerful Ivory Towers and decided to intrude on their neighbors with physical abuse that ended up in huge disputes. 

Third, soon the Washington Ivory Tower began to struggle over who is the greater Goliath. With little knowledge of Goliath, the folks took up arms to fight just because the Ivory Tower told them to. Fathers and sons left their homes and families and crossed the ocean to help the little Goliaths destroy the big Goliaths. History supports the need to eliminate cruel and inhuman behavior by some Goliaths although many times unwise decisions prevailed.

Meanwhile, mothers became breadwinners, leaving children alone, homes neglected, and communities changed forever. Many fathers died in the Ivory Tower wars. Womenfolk shared motherhood with staffing factories to supply armor for Washington. Having tried this method of control more than once, perhaps the folks should have asked questions and demanded more accountability.

Soldiers that survived came home. Women refused returning to full-time homemakers after joining the work force with all its perks, and the little folk, well, they became latch-key kids. Divorce began to invade the homes. Some parents no longer shared mutual goals. They built bigger houses with each family member in a room alone with a television, an electronic game controller, and a cell phone. The family dinner table disappeared along with family interaction. Churches were replaced with bars, dance halls, and cultural arts events. Families demanded two cars, Sunday dinner at the favorite restaurant, and a work-out at the local gym, along with many other materialistic toys that pleasured them. Everyone selfishly demanded the right to do his own thing while our Legislative and Justice Branches enacted an unprecedented liberal agenda.

Meanwhile, Goliath continued to multiply in Washington while the folks, distracted with greed and wealth, paid little attention to the ideology.  And they totally ignored the powerful Goliaths across the oceans. Education improved with the birth of high-tech, the young submerged in pleasure with God eliminated from society in general. With new methods of communicating, boundaries all but disappear into a maze of cell phones, internet, and jet planes.

No barriers, no fences, no morals, and more Ivory Towers and Goliath everywhere. As fate would have it, an especially wicked Bantam Rooster arose having a different goal, he began to torture and kill, even beheading many folks, while attempting to frighten them into submission to his seditious views. The Washington Goliath wallowed in the Ivory Tower wringing their hands with anxiety while they contrived schemes to coerce the folks to protect their dynasty, and largely ignored the wicked little Bantam Rooster who soon grew into a huge Goliath.

Finally, it became time to vote again. With little choice of candidates, folks survived the contentious year of campaigning between the two chief Ivory Tower Goliaths, Donald and Hillary. Will wonders never cease? Unexpectedly, Donald became the top Goliath. The loser and her followers refused to fade into their burrows quietly; instead they multiplied shouting obscenities, carrying signs, protesting all over the world – even across the oceans where the dispute was generally none of those folk’s business.

As top Goliaths continue to rattle their swords, otherwise rational folks became completely irrational in behavior shouting at the top of their lungs; Goliaths spewing falsehoods about each other, and absolutely no one is listening - it’s simply noise. Chaos rules and reason is abandoned. Again, the question, “Where did the folks go wrong?”

With a bit of research and fact-checking, the issues begin to surface. The Washington Goliath, along with many other world Goliaths, played with the rule of law and buried its gigantic head in the sand, allowing too many abused, suffering folks to overflow into peaceful territories, instead of staying in their own territory and taking up swords (perhaps with some help from others) against their leaders, abusive, dictatorial Goliaths, who continually stir up dissension so they can prosper in their lustful, greedy quest for power.

Meanwhile, the Goliaths spar with each other instead of seeking solutions, the wealthy elites and Hollywood vipers comfort each other with obscenities, while the wicked Bantam Rooster, who killed for pleasure, has evolved into a huge leopard creeping around the world, terrorizing all the folks, enslaving them in their space.  The question that stands out is “Where were the world’s democracies when the severely suppressed folks needed them, how did this out-of-control situation explode with the supposedly active United Nations guarding the world against such behavior, and should we continue to support the UN when they have failed in their mission?”

Perhaps the real question is not “Where did we go wrong?” but “What can we do to fix it?” Repent, folks, which means to admit failure, resolve to change, and actively search for solutions. Will we stumble and fall again, yes, but rational folks rise up, keep their eyes on the goal, and above all, keep Goliath caged letting him know who is boss, “We the People.”

Remembering the words of a Goliath of the past, Admiral Yamamoto said in 1941, “I fear all we have done is awaken a sleeping giant and filled him with a terrible resolve.”*** Wake up, be reasonable, be vigilant and cautious,SLEEPING GIANT, unless you want another rude awakening.

*    A giant soldier from Gath in ancient Palestine, Biblical story , I Samuel 17
**  A state of privileged seclusion or separation from the facts and practicalities of the real world.

***Quote following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.