...Beep!!... The Courtship of SweetHeart and S*** Head!

 

Memoirs of a Geezer

  

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:        ...BEEP!!...  The Courtship of SweetHeart

                             and S*** Head!  

In the early 1970s -- in those halcyon days before GeezerHood kicked in --  I began to woo my SweetHeart.  Interested in traveling there to investigate the possibility of purchasing a small-town newspaper in west central Colorado, I asked her to join me.  She responded, "Well...  (long pause)...  if you expect me to drop everything and follow you around the country, you're sadly delusional!!"  (She may even have added, "stupid"!)  

"Gosh," I responded quickly, "I wouldn't expect you to do so out of wedlock."  That was my highly romantic marriage proposal!  It has become the stuff, perhaps not of legend, but of stories told to family and friends, engendering considerable amusement.  

I was at the time employed as a public relations counsel by a major advertising and PR agency in Milwaukee.  My brilliant career in that capacity ended as the agency, through mismanagement and other factors, closed and locked its doors for the last time.  Shortly before the end, I was booted out, terminated, unceremoniously discharged, made redundant...   I suppose, as one of the newest members of the firm, my dismissal was considered prudent, a money saving exigency.  My immediate supervisor knew the end was near!  Figured I was more than merely expendable.  

I took a job at a saloon, knowing full well that a person of my talent and experience would soon find a new career suited to my personality, skills, successes and educational achievements.  Eventually?...  

My courtship of SweetHeart then in full bloom, her family having accepted the idea on a somewhat tentative level, I was permitted to call upon her at her family home.  On one of the first of those visits, driving my "Woodie," a disreputable, rusty and battered station wagon of questionable vintage, I parked in front of her house on a rainy Saturday.  [That same day, an enormous tree limb, dislodged by lightening (I think?), fell on the "Woodie" implanting a crater-like dent in the roof, adding yet another facet to its personality!]

But, moving on...   I approached SweetHeart's family home, the front door being open with no one in sight.  I knocked.  "Hello," I shouted several times.  "Anyone at home?" I asked, rather timidly. Finally, a woman's voice paraded across what seemed like several rooms to the doorway at which I shuffled, confused and quizzical.  

"Honey," the voice began, "say, 'Say Beep.' "  

"What?" I mumbled, now more perplexed and bewildered.  "I'm sorry," I added.  "What should I do?  Do I come in now?"

"Honey, say, 'Say Beep,'" the voice insisted again, this time in a more urgent and commanding tone.  I entered the house.

"Um...   Beep," I said, haltingly, the word falling off my tongue in a somewhat diffident volume, as if clearing my mouth of a rancid nut by means of a polite cough, vs. a rude 'Pi-tui!"

As if I had pressed a formidable, red "launch button," beeps resounded from every corner of the house.  I caught on!  My task was then to find all of the "beepers," family members who were making their various locations known, hiding places, by means of the beeping.  I wandered slowly, but deliberately, if somewhat cautiously, into the home's various rooms and passageways.  A louder beep directly my pace into the main bathroom where I met SweetHeart's brother, Boobers, who was standing in the family bathtub.  I introduced myself.  "Hello, I'm the suitor," I said, stupidly.  We shook hands.

Johnny was under a bed.  He laughed at me as I reached under the bed extending my hand in greeting, perhaps even to help him dislodge himself.  Jimmy was in a closet.  Same greeting.  SweetHeart was in a different closet.  Re-united, the five us us chatted and laughed amiably as SweetHeart recounted in some detail the family tradition of "Beep," telling stories of other "Beep" adventures involving other "victims" in other parts of the country.  A particularly funny tale took place in Las Vegas, a story she told with colorful relish, as if chewing on, savoring a favorite dish.

Some several minutes passed as all of us continued to laugh and ruminate on our own personal adventures in foolish behavior.  Suddenly, SweetHeart's mother appeared.  "You don't play fair!" she announced with mock anger.  "I waited a long time!  You were supposed to find me too."  The comment was aimed at me.  I apologized profusely, and with true sincerity.  

Boobers said, "Sorry. Mom.  We got caught up in introductions and 'Beep' stories.  Couldn't help ourselves.  We'd have found you eventually...  I think."  That caused more merriment.

Don't remember which brother it was, Johnny or Jimmy, but I was told after several more minutes to go and find their "beeping" father.  I was directed to the home's basement Where "Big Artie" was apparently secluded in his workshop.  I tripped down some 13 basement steps.  

"Say 'beep' SweeetHeart's Father," I said, feeling like a buffoon in a cartoon!  

Slowly turning toward me, a hammer in his hand, his face bearing a look of pure contempt.  "I don't play 'Beep,' " he barked, his words hurled at me like a sack of paving gravel.

"Oh," said I, timidly, "I'm sorry, sir."  I turned quickly and went back upstairs.  Facing the three smirking brothers, I said, "He doesn't play 'Beep.' "  The smirks morphed into uproarious laughter, and it lasted a long while.  The brothers liked to tease and put certain people in amusingly embarrassing circumstances!  I got used to it...  Boobers and I became great pals over time -- the other two brothers too, but SweetHeart and I had less social interaction with them.

In a relatively brief passage of time, when I'd come to see and woo SweetHeart, Big Artie warmed to me.  He would actually put down his newspaper and greet me with some deference.  A rare occurrence among SweetHeart's suitors, she informed me.  I felt honored.  I think it was the fact that he and I were both fond of writing, and both of our careers required a degree of proficiency in written communications.  In time, we got on rather well, Big Artie and I. 

Now, some 47 years into our marriage, SweetHeart, our children and I -- even our grandchildren -- continue to enjoy "Beep."  It's become part of our family's traditions, sort of a heritage to cherish and pass on...  We played "Beep" when our younger daughter arrived on a weekend day several months ago, her long-distance boyfriend in tow.  (The young man lives in Salt Lake City...  It's a cross-country romance, but seems to be an enduring one!) He and I met in our bathtub (another tradition?).  To be clear, I was standing full-clothed in the tub.  We shook hands.  I like him.  He's a decent chap, and he loves our daughter. 

We are willing to teach all interested parties the basic rudiments of "Beep."  Click or call!  Politicians are well advised to learn, practice and play "Beep" at all political events, rallies and legislative sessions!  It could easily lead to a kinder and gentler political landscape.  We can help.  Call, click or stop by for affordable lessons.  Thank you!  

Humbly Submitted, 12-07-2020 -- Joel K.