I don’t imagine I need to tell you that marrying anyone for the sake of his or her fortune (or for any other vain, shallow thing that offers no promise of compatibility) is far less likely to lead to a successful union than choosing a life partner for love’s sake. Yet it still appears to happen remarkably often, this rather forlorn hope that being financially impressive will be enough to overcome any other sorts of objectionable shortcomings. Far nicer, I think, to choose shared values, friendly companionship, mutual attraction, and the numerous other commonalities that can make real love bloom and grow.
On Valentine’s Day, as on any other day of the year, I am deeply grateful and outlandishly delighted that I found the person I can happily wander off with, hand-in-hand, toward our mutually appointed sunset, no matter what turns our fortunes will take along the way. We each have the advantage, as well, of being married to an artist, so there’s definitely no danger of either of us having married for the other’s massive bank account or hovering around hoping the other kicks the bucket soon so we can inherit untold millions. We’re just comfortably stuck with loving each other for the sake of love. Hurray!
I do realize that it’s a long time yet until St. Patrick’s Day returns, and no, I am not Irish. But sometimes one just needs to emit a silly Limerick or two, and who can stand the suspense of holding off until mid-March? So I’ll just go with the urge—the itch, if you will—and let my Limericks out to play a little early. Or very late, as the case may be.
And let this be a reminder to all of us to avoid being pests and nuisances to others. As my young nephew once shouted at the screen during an epic animated film in which a number of insects were being exceedingly awful to a number of other insects, “Be NICE, Bugs!” Or you could get in big trouble. Nicer is definitely safer.
Sylvester from Sylvania, magnificent skier and scout,
Went off to explore the slopes one day, but the minute that he was out,
His girlfriend Sylvia opened the door to another particular friend,
And I needn’t tell you that soon enough, they all came to a tragic end,
For Sylvester’d forgotten it was late spring and roots sticking out of the snow
Tripped him at top speed; with a nasty fling he crashed to the gorge below;
Meanwhile, back home, Sylvia and Sid were having a high old time
‘Til Sydney’s wife showed up with a knife, and that’s the end of this rhyme.