Marshall Ramsey

The Moon had a millenniums-long crush on the Earth — but could do nothing about it. He tried to tug at her heart but instead pulled her tides. He glowed from the sun’s rays  to light her on dark nights but she hardly noticed. The Moon just quietly rotated around her, always keeping his face turned  toward her blue and green beauty. “It must be my face,” he sighed. Pocked with craters,  he was scarred with the abuse of time.  Once he had gotten his hopes up when she had sent some of her inhabitants to check him out. But she hadn’t done that in nearly 40 years.  Space was lonely. The Moon was lonelier.

Poets had written about him. Young lovers had fallen in love beneath his glow.  The Moon was a romantic. He just couldn’t get the Earth’s attention. Around and around and around he went, nearly always the same distance away.  He just quietly orbited her as they took yet another trip around the Sun.

The former astronaut, however, was not so romantic about the place he had once visited. He saw the Moon in scientific terms: Gravity. Space. Acceleration. Escape Velocity. One of the few men on Earth who had walked on its surface, he had a serious up on everyone he met. Like the comedian Brian Regan had once said, he could trump anyone by just saying, “Well, I walked on the Moon.”  He sat out in the backyard of his Houston home and looked at the sky.  “Someday we’ll get back to you, old friend,” he warmly growled. “Someday.”

The astronaut’s great-grandson walked out carrying a sippy-cup.  He stopped, dropped the cup onto the St. Augustine grass and pointed to the sky. “MOOON!” his little sing-song voice cried out.  The astronaut picked up the little boy and said, “Yes sir, we’ll be back someday.” He then laughed, “Maybe Newt Gingrich will build that Moon base after all.” The political joke was lost on the child but what the astronaut didn’t know was that indeed someday his great-grandson would go back. Because America’s courage to explore would be re-ignited. He’d take one small step for man just like his grand-grandfather had so many years ago.

“Never quit exploring little buddy,” the astronaut finished. “It’s the most romantic thing you can possibly do.”  With that, he put his great-grandson down. He then watched as space exploration’s future picked up his sippy-cup and stared at his future.

If the Moon could have smiled he would have.  Any attention from the Earth was good attention.  But in the meantime he patiently waited, spinning around and around the woman he loved until he was visited once again.

Cupid sat on the bench frustrated.  “No one believes in love any more,” he mumbled to a half-interested pigeon (who thought the winged cherub was a third cousin.)

Cupid has spent the day trying to get Speaker John Boehner and President Barack Obama to love each other. The emergency room had to remove his arrow from an unspeakable place after that failed attempt.  He vaguely remembered telling the ER doc, “I wish I was the tooth fairy. She has it made. People will always have teeth.”

Nope, there just wasn’t much love in the world.  Cupid threw on a jacket to cover his wings (and honestly people look at you funny when you wear a diaper in public.)  and walked out of the park. He got in his car (a Jaguar) and headed the local 24-hour big box store to see how Valentine’s Day cards were selling.

He walked in and nice Civil War veteran greeted him, “WELCOME TO MEGAMART. ”  Cupid nodded and briskly rushed past. The man only had so many words left, Cupid thought. He didn’t dare risk a conversation.  He then bee-lined to the part of the store where the cards were.

Even though it was “his” holiday, Cupid wasn’t wild about Valentine’s Day. It always seemed manufactured by the card, flower and restaurant industries to him.  Why focus on one day when you should be loving all year long?  He walked around the corner and noticed a little girl staring at him.  Cupid waved his hand and made some candy appear in her hand. He then blew her a kiss and she giggled. There was no more pure love than the love of a child.

He then went around another corner to the Valentine’s Day card aisle. The hoard of last minute shoppers (most likely men) had picked-over the shelves like locusts with a thyroid problem. As Cupid gazed down the aisle, there was one middle-aged man standing there with his head in his hands.  Cupid, being the master of all things Love, could tell this man was as far from being in a loving spirit as anyone in the store. He felt the man’s frustration.  He was on the edge of a break down.

“May I help you?”

The man turned his head quickly and said, “Do you work here?”

Cupid said, “Do I look like I work here?”

The man quickly shook his head no and said, “Then how can you help me?”

Cupid pulled out a business card (they were so 20th century but very helpful).

The man looked at the cherub with disbelief. Cupid, expecting this reaction, pulled off his jacket and revealed his wings.

The man looked like he wanted to run — Lord knows you meet all kind of characters at MEGAMART.  But he stayed and said, “I am at a loss for what to get my wife. I have a lot of damage to repair.  I guess I can admit this to you, but I haven’t been much of a husband. Our marriage is on the rocks.”

Cupid grinned and said, “I prefer Bourbon on the rocks.”

The man looked at him with no expression.

Cupid continued, “Look, I could go shoot your wife in the butt with an arrow. That’d fix everything — and would be the easy way out for you. But I’m not going to do that.  You Americans have such a microwave mentality. ‘I want it now,’ should be tattooed on your foreheads.”

The man, appearing defeated, said, “Then what the heck am I supposed to do?”

Cupid, rubbing his smooth chin, said, “Start with this: Treat Valentine’s Day not as a day to show your love but as the day you celebrate the love you’ve shown the other 364 days of the year.”

The man just stared at Cupid with dissatisfied stare. “Sure, flyboy, but if I don’t have a nice gift tomorrow, I’m straight to the couch.”

Cupid shook his head. “OK, let me say this slower for you to understand.  Make every day Valentine’s Day. Give her the gift of your time. Your attention. Find ways to make her life easier. Listen to her. How long have you been married?”

The man had to think for a second. “Fifteen years.”

Cupid continued, “Imagine if you had a bank account for 15 years and all you made were withdrawals.  Where would be now?”

“Jail.” the man sighed.

“Your marriage feels like jail now, doesn’t it?”

“Between jail and Hell,” the man shrugged.

Cupid laughed. “Look, here’s a nice gift to give her tomorrow to get you out of the doghouse.” Cupid waved his hand and a nice necklace appeared. “But make a one-year-effort to woo your wife again.  Treat her like you did when you were dating.  Then meet me back here one year from now and we’ll see what kind of gift you need.”

The man thanked Cupid and went up to the register to pay for his gift.  Cupid went to the food aisle and got a six-pack of Red Bull.  He had a lot of work to do tonight and needed to stay awake.

One year later:

Cupid walked into the MEGAMART and the same Civil War veteran was still greeting people.  “Congratulations for another year above ground.” The greeter, not being able to hear well, thought he said, “Congratulations for a beer and a pound.”

There in the card aisle was the man who Cupid had helped. And next to him was a smiling lady.  “Hey Cupid!” A lady with a cart looked at the man like he had lost his mind.

Cupid said, “I take it this is your wife?”  She smiled when he said it. “So, what gift are you getting her?”

“Oh, I bought it a few weeks ago.  I didn’t have to come here. I knew exactly what she wanted. For some reason, I’ve been listening to her,” the man explained. “I got a card and flowers, too — but like you said, today is a day to celebrate the past year.”

His wife looked at the cherub and said, “Thanks for not shooting me in the butt.”

Cupid smiled and said, “You’re welcome.  And Happy Valentine’s Day. I wish the world was filled with more love like yours.”

Cupid headed toward the Red Bull and watched as the happy couple left the store while holding hands.

I want a James Bond car. A silver, missile-firing, ejection-seat equipped Aston Martin James Bond car. One where I can shoot oil slicks out the back and have a bullet-proof shield (hey, I’ve already had one car blown up from a stray bullet.).  I don’t even care if it is iPod-capatible.  I want to be able to blow up cars who drive in the emergency lane past stopped traffic.  BOOM.  Que James Bond theme. Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah Ba da da ba da dum dum dum.  If it has lasers and can turn into a submarine, well that’s a bonus.

Cars used to be fun to me. I had a Pontiac when I was 16 (I kid you not). It had a 400 cubic inch big-block V-8 that made the car go 0-60 in a mouse’s fart.  Problem was, it had manual drum brakes (if you don’t know what that is, Fred Flintstone’s feet can stop a car faster than manual drum brakes.).  I could go from A to B fast but would end up in C.  But sometime in the past 30 ears, I died and became practical.  Now I drive a CUV. It’s like a baby SUV (the C stands for cute, I think.) The sad thing is, I love the darn thing. It’s my Swiss Army knife.  I can haul kids, books, equipment, my bike, my dog and safely travel the backroads of Mississippi.  And it has heated seats (for my old back) and an iPod jack.  I know. Pathetic.  I went from fun to practical.  And don’t even ask me about my other car. It rhymes with A VAN.  Yup. Pathetic.  But it hauls kids and their friends and travels long distances on one tank…aw, I’ll shut up now.

Like I said, I’ve died and become practical.

The bottom line: I’m truly a red-blooded American.  I love me some cars.  I’ve owned two Pontiac Firebirds, an Isuzu Trooper, a Toyota Corolla (when I was in purgatory) and a Nissan Maxima. Now I have a Honda put-put.  I went from fun to practical.  Any moment now, I will head back to fun again. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pick out my mid-life crisis car.  I’d look good in a Camaro convertible.  Does it come in a wagon for the kids?

The full moon had chased the shadows behind the trees — Nighttime had turned to day.  The normally inky black sky nearly looked blue. A young button buck munched on fresh clover along the side of the two-lane Mississippi highway.  An old Chevrolet truck crested the hill and stopped, causing the deer to bolt into the woods. A sleepy worker pulled over, killed his headlights and got out of the cab. The stunning view ahead of him always took his breath away: The full glory of the Mississippi Delta was illuminated and laid out before him.  It was 4 a.m. and the world had momentarily achieved peace.

He pulled out his Thermos.  He poured another cup of strong, black coffee and just sat on the hood of his truck. The warmth from the engine felt good on the cool morning. The Delta had been painted with a cool shade of midnight blue.  The painter Bill Dunlap could not have painted a more amazing landscape. A light breeze tickled his beard as he took another sip of the life-giving elixir. He felt its warmth heat up his soul. He was heading home from job number three. It had been yet another long night of doing menial work on the night shift.  . His body was about to fully revolt — He knew he needed some sleep. But this was too amazing to miss.  The moment before dawn.  The moment before even the birds began to sing.  Peace.  He filled his lungs with the cool air.

He thought of the quote from George Washington Carver, “Nothing is more beautiful than the loveliness of the woods before sunrise.”  A shooting star carved a scar across the western sky. He made a wish and smiled. He knew how wishes came true. Hard work. Dreams achieved. Attitude.

He had been discounted his whole life. His teachers said he was too stupid for college. His coaches said he was too little and slow to play ball. His college professors said he’d never amount to anything. Some people would have folded under that kind of disbelief. He thought of the boss who had laid him off. She had not believed in his talent. He said to her as he walked out of her office, “There’s a long line of people who underestimated me. Watch me.”

He had been an executive at the local mill. He had worked very had to earn that promotion. But the world changes and jobs go to China.  He didn’t change as fast as the world and got caught up in the vortex of layoffs. But he didn’t quit. He didn’t feel sorry for himself. Nope, he did what his grandparents had done during the Great Depression: He got to work. He took an online course to learn to write. He found a couple of jobs to keep food on the table. That’s why he was sitting on the hood of his truck.  He was taking a moment to count his blessings. It was that moment of appreciation that powered him through the tough moments.

The old proverb said, “It’s always darkest before the dawn.”  Not today. Not now. Not in his life. The full moon saw to that. And so did his attitude.

A car buzzed by him and plunged down the hill into the bowl of the Delta.  He took another sip of his coffee and then screwed the lid back on the Thermos. In his truck was a laptop.  He pulled it out and started writing.  Being a Mississippian, he had the amazing gift of being a storyteller.  No, he thought, being a Mississippian means you have GREAT stories to tell.  He started writing another short story.

Little did he know that he’d be a successful author in five years.  Little did he know that this was just a temporary rough patch in his life. He just had to keep pushing the devil. To get through what he perceived to be hard times.  Five years from now he’d understand that this part of his life was God pushing him out of his comfort zone. That He was just giving him some good stories to tell.

His face glowed from the laptop as he described the miraculous scene before him. The Delta produced amazing crops. It produced the Blues. And now it was about to produce another amazing Mississippi literary talent.  As he looked west toward the Mississippi River, a second shooting star streaked across the western sky. Little did the man know that this was a sign that his first wish was about to come true.

His success was as imminent as the coming sunrise. Like the Delta before him, he was about to produce a fertile crop. He looked out at the blue-tinted land before him and said, “Thanks be to God.” And then he got to work.