The winter of 2011-2012 has been wonderfully mild, probably to the delight of most. The forecast for tomorrow, the first day of spring, is 83 degrees which would be perfectly normal for July in Northern Ohio but not even close for March. It reminded me of something I wrote 15 years ago and present to you now in its unedited form. -B

March 31, 1997

One more time ...

For background make sure you checkout I Am Truly Blest and I Am Truly Blest Part Deux.

This one has a subject of CRAVE YOUR INDULGENCE.

Since the “God” approach does not seem to work on me (see previous posting on OBERLIN.COM: I Am Truly Blest), the purveyors of Internet scam have opted for a more direct approach. They are now subtly tempting me with sex and ill-gotten booty (FYI: At this point in my life I’m not sure of the difference between the two).

I am truly blest.

Two strangers, both of whom are dying women, have decided to give me large sums of money so that I may do “… the good work of God, and also to help the motherless and less privilege and also for the assistance of the widows” and ensure that the money will not be used in an “ungodly way”.

In light of recent events, I have resurrected something I wrote many years ago. It has been redacted heavily and pared down significantly from the original text of over 83,000 words.

Despite my best efforts, I have somehow managed to stay alive for over half a century. During this time, I've learned many things. Here are three of the most important:

This happens to be Cinco de Mayo, a day which marks the Mexican victory over the Spanish, English, and especially the French. You may be one of many "gringos" who are under the misguided impression that the actual date is somehow important. In reality, the date has nothing to do with this holiday. It is just a weird coincidence of phonetic similarities between Mexican and American words.

As occasionally happens in a man’s relationship with a woman, I got wrangled into performing an obligatory chore. One of those things that guys relished in our misspent, impulsive and unbridled youth. We did it in the dark. We did it in our cars. We did it with popcorn. Yes that’s right. I had to watch a chick-flick.

I had whimsical names for the movie I was about to see spinning in my head:

Eat, Barf, Fart
Meat, Say, Glove
Kim, Jong, Il

It was, in fact: Eat, Pray, Love.

My recent opinion piece reminded me about the Amish.

My wife’s cousins are all farmers. Real farmers – not like me. Although I, too, own a farm, the only thing I can reliably grow is bread mold. One cousin, also named Bob, gives everyone a Mason jar full of homemade maple syrup every Christmas. Although modern in most respects, he still enjoys doing some things the old-fashioned way so I was intrigued when he invited me to help with a sap harvest. The following is a true account of my experience.