Marshall Ramsey

I was fortunate enough to catch up with Cupid on his busiest day of the year. He arrived wearing a nice wool suit with a red tie adorned with pink and white hearts (not the traditional diaper like everyone expects.)  He’s a much older man than I expected although he still sports a cherub-like appearance. He sipped on a bottle of water and ate candy hearts as we began.

Marshall Ramsey: Welcome, Cupid. I know it’s a very busy day for you today. So thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to join us.

Cupid: You’re welcome. Actually, it’s nice to just sit down. I’ve about flapped my little wings off today.

Marshall Ramsey:  Let’s start at the beginning. When did you realize you were the one and only Cupid?

Cupid: Well, I was always shorter than the other kids. I guess I started suspecting it in middle school. Like a lot of 6th graders, I had a hard time getting girls to pay attention to me. But I discovered I had this ability to make them like other guys.  And then when I hit puberty, the wings sprouted.  You think parents have a hard time explaining a mystery hair.  Wings? C’mon. That’s awkward in P.E.

Marshall Ramsey: How did you get chosen to be Cupid?

Cupid: It’s a family business.  When I was kid, I tried to get my dad to come to Career Day.  I didn’t know what he did so I asked my mom. She said he hooked up couples.  I said, “OMIGOD, He’s a PIMP!”  Soap doesn’t taste good.

Marshall Ramsey: If it is a family business, do you have an heir?

Cupid: Yes. My son is in training right now. He’s in charge of hooking up animals.  I’m proud of the boy, but will admit his archery is terrible.  Ever had your dog hump your leg? That means the boy missed his target. Again.

(Cupid sighs.  You can tell this is a source of frustration for him.) 

Marshall Ramsey: Who do you admire and who do you envy?

Cupid: I envy Santa and the Easter Bunny. I mean, c’mon, they only have to work one day a year and can sit on their furry tails the rest of the year. Me? I’m 24/7 and 365 days a year. I flap my little wings up trying to keep up with the World’s growing population.   I admire the Tooth Fairy for having such an iron-clad stomach. Bloody teeth are gross if you ask me.

Marshall Ramsey: What’s your favorite song? Artist?

Cupid: That’s a hard one. I have a lot of great songs on my iPod.  I love Marvin Gaye.  Wish his father had shown a little more love. That John Lennon sure wrote about love a lot and did it well. Wish I hadn’t hooked him up with Yoko — just from the aspect of the Beatles breaking up. I miss the Beatles. Barry White gets a lot of credit for people hooking up. That’s me, not his music. But never underestimate the power of music when it comes to love.  And I love George Harrison’s Something. Wow.

(Cupid starts humming the classic Beatles song and then continues…)

I wish someone would put Taylor Swift out of her misery. I’ve shot the girl several times and she still manages to screw up her relationships. I think she and Adele just like being miserable so they can write about it.

Marshall Ramsey: Who was the first couple you hooked up?

Cupid: I had just received my arrow set on my 18th birthday.  I shot my math teacher Miss Wonkowski and the janitor.  I heard both got fired after they were caught in the janitor’s closet.  I was grounded for a week for that one.

Marshall Ramsey: What couple has frustrated you the most?

Cupid: The Speaker of the House Boehner and President Obama.  I mean I don’t want them to hook up but I’d least like them to be civil.

Marshall Ramsey: The next question is a hard one but I’m curious: Who do you regret hooking up?

Cupid: Hitler’s parents. Enough said.

Marshall Ramsey: If you had to give a “State of Romance” speech, what would you say?

Cupid: Romance is strong. Love will always win the day. But I’m a hopeless romantic. There’s too much pain in this world for love not to win out.  I mean, it’s all over the Good book. Love thy neighbor…it doesn’t get much plainer than that.

Marshall Ramsey:  What’s your favorite romantic movie?

Cupid: Don’t get much time for movies, but I love Sleepless in Seattle. That Tom Hanks is a card. I love a great romantic comedy. Nicholas Sparks makes my hair hurt, though — although I did like the Notebook because of James Garner.  When Harry Met Sally cracked me up. I loved the ending of Say Anything — well played John Cusack with that boom box  Always loved Rhett and Scarlett. But Casablanca. Wow. Now there’s a movie.

Marshall Ramsey:  Is this rumor I keep hearing about you nearly getting a TV show true?

Cupid: Yes. Oprah approached me and threw a lot of money at me. I didn’t have time, turned her down and Dr. Phil got the show instead. I still have guilt about creating that monster.

Marshall Ramsey: Your thoughts on Valentine’s Day? Is it too commercial?

Cupid: It’s as artificial as a Twinkie. But you’re damned if you don’t do something. My thought is that you should show the amount of love you give your loved on Valentine’s Day the other 364 days as well.  Roses on a random day have much more power than on February 14th. And they are cheaper.

Marshall Ramsey: What’s your biggest challenge?

Cupid: Couples who have been married or together for a long time. Apparently my arrows are like the measles shot: I have to come back in 20 years later and give a booster shot.

Marshall Ramsey: Any parting advice for all the couples who are reading this?

Cupid: Words are great. Action is better. Remember that love is a verb not a noun. Show your love constantly in the smallest ways. Grand, sweeping gestures are great –but it’s the little things that keep a relationship strong. I can’t be everywhere all the time. You have to take personal responsibility for your love. Think of it as a bank account. You always have to be making deposits because one day there will be a big withdrawal. And if there aren’t sufficient reserves, not even I can help you.

Marshall Ramsey: What makes you the saddest?

Cupid: Divorce

Marshall Ramsey: The happiest?

Cupid: The words, “I love you.”

Marshall Ramsey: Thanks, Cupid.

Cupid: Thanks, Marshall. I’ve loved being here today.

Did you see Senator Marco Rubio’s response to the State of the Union last night? What did you think?  Did you like that “reaching for the water bottle moment?”  Holy Moly! I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I just sat there laughing.  My first thought was, “There’s an SNL sketch already written.”

And then a wave of sympathy rolled over me. I thought, “Poor guy. Been there, done that.”

Because being on camera is hard. Speaking to a few million people when your political future is on the line — well, that’s REALLY hard.

I can’t imagine.

Giving the response to the State of Anything is a losing proposition. (If offered, RUN! I mean FAST.) Why? You’re competing against a President or Governor, wrapped in pomp and circumstance, who just had a whole cheering audience to feed off. You, though, are locked in some small room with no energy whatsoever.  Look, there are two types of speakers out there. Those who feed off an audience (I’m like that). And those who have the ability to talk to a camera or microphone and make it magic.  Ronald Reagan had that gift. Marco Rubio apparently doesn’t.  And to be fair, he’s a great speaker. He’s just used to having cheering supporters. Last night it was him and the camera.

And he looked scared.

I bet his political life flashed before his eyes.  He had to be thinking of Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal’s disasterous turn at giving the response a few years ago. Jindal came across like a nervous 18-year-old running for Senior class president.  Rubio was better, but still — the water bottle episode was nothing short of bizarre.   I mean, c’mon: You have a few minutes. You can live without a drink unless you are on fire or have swallowed a cat.

But that wasn’t what really bugged me about his speech. I think he missed a real opportunity to sell how his political philosophy would make America a better place.  Sure, he told his parents’ story and his middle class upbringing. That was strong. But a good chunk of the speech was about how bad President Obama is. I know, I know — it’s an easy thing to do. I used to be in talk radio, I get it. But here’s a newsflash for you: The President ain’t running again. And people just voted for the guy. Saying how bad he stinks doesn’t offer people hope. Instead, you should offer a better alternative. That’s what Reagan did. He told us about the shining city on the hill. And he served two terms.

Americans know the problems. They have been living them since the Great Recession began.

They’re just looking for a better way. Give it to them. And then you can take your precious drink of water.

The warm wind blew through the seaside bar on the warm Ash Wednesday morning. Palm trees gently swayed as a young college student sat next to an older gentleman.  The man, an Episcopal priest, began talking to student.  The student, intent on drinking as much as he could in as quickly as he could, listened — but only about halfway. He had memories to obliterate.

The priest began to speak anyway:

“It’s Ash Wednesday. You know, ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.’ I spent the morning dusting and Lord knows, I enough dust in my condo. And I have a couple of cremated pets on the shelf in urns. So I have some ashes. If you’d like to talk about my mortality, well that’s another matter. I could fill your ear about it.  But would you really care?  Sure, I had  brush with death.  But you don’t care. I mean really, you can’t get to my age without nearly dying once or twice.  A drunk can weave into your lane. A tornado can hit your house. You can get stuck on a disabled cruise in the Gulf and have to eat onion sandwiches.  And if you have experienced combat, death becomes a daily foxhole companion.”

“No, I’m not going to bore you with my story.  Because you don’t want to hear it. Oh, you do? OK, it’s cancer and I’ve nearly drowned. Big whoop.  Both just made life a little clearer. I’d like to think the cancer was a pair of glasses.  Nearly drowning was my progressive lenses: I can now see up close better than I could before.”

“Ah, to be young and bullet-proof.  Remember those days? That’s right, you probably still do feel bulletproof.”

The college student glared at the priest, who continued to talk anyway.

“I always feel sorry for teenagers who experience death first hand.  They’re robbed of their shield of protection. If I hadn’t been naive at that age, I might not have tried new things. No, instead, I would have been in the fetal position until I was at least 40. ”

“Hang on a second, “Bartender, could I have another iced tea?”

“I gave up the drink a long time ago.  I could see using it as a crutch during the bad times. And I had a pretty bad time for a while.  I chose the Lord to lift me up instead. And do I mind if you smoke? Yes. You know those things will kill you. And me. And the bartender.”

The bartender interrupted the priest’s monolog. “Father, you want anything from the kitchen?”

“Yeah, Fred. Get me some oysters. And make it a double order. My friend here looks hungry.”

The kid looked at the man in cutoffs and a black shirt with collar but didn’t say anything.

“You might wonder why I am here in Paradise instead of somewhere more Hellish. Well, son, people need ministering everywhere. God put me here. And you seem to need some ministering.”

The priest’s tan revealed he had been “here” for a long time.

“Today is Ash Wednesday, son. You only have a brief time on this earth. No one knows for sure — and isn’t that a good thing? Can you imagine how freaked out if you knew when you were going to die? God did us a big favor on that one.  But do God a favor. Treat each moment like the gift that it is. Obviously something is bothering you or you wouldn’t have red eyes and be drinking so heavily.”

The college student mumbled a few words under his breath.

The seaside priest acknowledged him and continued, “Yes, that is a tragedy. A terrible one. Life can be cruel.  Yes, I know that it seems like God can be cruel, too.  But you can’t go down that road.  You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

Dark clouds built on the horizon, making the green water even more vibrant from the contrast. A distant rumble of thunder announced the coming storm.

“We’re OK here, son. It’s fun to watch the lightning dance across the Gulf.”

“Believe me, I haven’t always been a man of the cloth.  I suffered a tragedy much like yours.  I lost everything in a sailing accident. An accident that was my fault, by the way.  The last time I saw the woman I loved was as she drowned.  So, yes, I understand your feeling about God being cruel. I understand what it is like to be eaten up by guilt.”

The bartender brought the two orders of fried oysters as Jimmy Buffet’s “Death of an Unpopular Poet” played on the jukebox.

“God isn’t cruel. I personally think He is good. But I’m not going to get overly religious on you today. I’m just going to be here.  My cancer? You want to hear about my cancer? Three doctors missed it. Should be dead. But I’m not.  I’m here for a reason. Maybe it was to buy you oysters.”

The college kid looked at the priest and smiled.

“When Christina drowned, my heart drowned, too. Never could love another woman. Why? There’d never be another woman like her. So I became a man of the cloth.  The bad things in life shape us, son. Like rocks in a rushing stream. They smooth out the rough edges and may us shine. My accident pushed me in a new direction.”

The storm’s wind blew sand into the air. The priest watched the horizon, looking for waterspouts.

“The Gulf is a temperamental lady. I used to sail her all the time and never knew what mood she would be in. I screwed up and sailed us into a storm. Spend a week on a life raft after our boat sank.  A passing shower and my ability to catch fish helped me survive. I’m still suffering from skin cancers from the sunburn I received.  When the Coast Guard found me, I vowed to live the rest of my life to make up for my sin. I had to learn to ask for forgiveness for Christina’s death.  You will learn, that too.”

The boy began to cry and spoke.  “I didn’t mean to cause the accident. I didn’t mean for her to die.”

“I know, son. I know. You have a heavy burden on your heart.”

The priest walked over to an ashtray and dipped his finger in the cigar ashes.

“Sorry, these will have to do.”

He wiped them on the boy’s forehead and  began to pray:

Almighty God, you have created us out of the dust of the earth: Grant that these ashes may be to us a sign of our mortality and penitence, that we may remember that it is only by your gracious gift that we are given everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Savior.   Amen.

The seaside priest put his arm around the young man and held him tight. “I know you didn’t mean to cause the wreck that killed my granddaughter. You are forgiven by me and by God.”

A ray of sunshine broke through the dark clouds.  A calm fell across the water as the storm subsided.  And on that Ash Wednesday, the seaside priest and the college student found peace by a once turbulent sea.