He told me he had met the love of his life. I asked how he knew and he said she had breasts like two fawns, twins of a gazelle, cheeks like halves of pomegranates, eyes like doves, lips a crimson thread.
“Wait a minute, Solomon, what about between her ears?”
“What do you mean? I’m sure it is Eden on a sunny day,” he replied.
“Well, east of Eden, for sure,” I stated, “You know the cliché about the cover of a book. There’s a reason it’s a cliché. And by the way that goes for both male and female covers, oh, handsome one,” I warned, “Just remember, you aren’t just getting a beautiful body; you’re getting the whole family, the history of humanity and a lot of it ain’t pretty.”
Ah, the proverbial blindness of love and so they married and, in the first year, experienced the history lessons of a lifetime.
Sitting on their hands, they fought the skirmishes of the tribes of Israel, all the Greek mythological wars, the Peloponnesian War, the conquests of Rome and they finished month twelve with the Viking invasions.
I told him congratulations for surviving the first year and asked him if he were ready for the second round. He said they were only up to one thousand C.E. but had been invited to lecture at the U.S. Army War College. Actually, they both agreed to an appointment with a marriage counselor.
I said, “Good boy. Would you do it all again?”
“Well, I hate it when her father roars out of her mouth and she hates it when my mother whines out of mine, but are you kidding?” he asked, “Do you have any idea how great the truces are?”
Ah, love.
bobdahl 