by Barron B. Hoffbeck (no. 12513)

It’s the little things. In this world of “super sized” excess, larger-than-life Leadership, and the media’s endless concatenation of insipid imagery exploding out of the at-home jumbotron, it can be a beautiful act of self-healing to pause, to behold a dandelion’s mane, to taste the icy kiss of a Tic-Tac. Life isn’t always the roar of a marching band–sometimes it’s the “hank-hank!” of a nesting American coot. You sometimes need to adjust expectations–and enjoy the little things.

Take this morning for instance–I was perusing my local DSW when I happened upon the perfect pair of Jessica Simpson pumps in nude. As I traced a finger down the stack of boxes, my mood went from unamused to eccicato as I eyed one last box of size 10s. Alas, midnight came quickly and my chariot looked a paler shade of pumpkin as Cinderella’s slipper wouldn’t quite slide onto my Teutonic tootsies. I “yoo-hoo’d” a shop girl to come hither and inquired about any extra wide sizes possibly waiting in the wings. Rudely, she dismissed me, “All of our stock is on the floor.” Before I could plead further, she vanished back towards the cash register with a final stinger: “Honestly, I’m not sure we would carry any stock that could accommodate you.”

As a tempest began to swell in the black sea of the id (and before I could ask to speak with a manager!), I spied Lodge 129’s own Barron K. Warderly. She was shopping for soccer cleats for her grandson and had just purchased a box of funny latin dough-nuts that she called “churro.” We got to chatting and before long, the churro were gone and we had jawed away the better part of 20 minutes–laughing and squawking like a couple of gulls. I left DSW without my pumps but better than that–I left satisfied, warmed by the friendship of my lodge mate. It’s the little things.

Love too isn’t always a lion’s roar–it can be a gentle purr or a whisker stuck in a woolen shawl. Yegor was driving back me back from Southdale Mall–our regular Sunday lunch date at Schlotzky’s. At a stoplight, I caught him staring at me, grimacing uncomfortably. I thought perhaps I had a bit of mustard on my face (I laugh about that now!) but before I could flip down the passenger seat sun visor he managed to summon the courage to ask in his charming Ukrainian stutter: “Would you be…my wife?” I gasped…then whispered back…”Yes, Yegor.” We drove home in silence, filled with the feelings of love’s warmth unfurling before us, a bottomless pool of spring’s waters finally bubbling up to the surface.

Of course, nobody is perfect. I still question his Lodge affiliations. I caught a glimpse of a large sphere nestled amidst the construction refuse in his truck bed last week. He claimed “bowling ball” but I wasn’t sure–Guardians of the Orb are no doubt ready with such excuses (and pre-drilled holes) for their club paraphernalia. Additionally, he’s never without a Tampa Bay Rays hat and his favorite meat is “hot dog.” If these are huge Guardians of the Orb telegraphs warning me that I’m engaged to wed a member of a rival secret lodge, I fear that I’m in too deep in love’s chokehold to realize.

For now however, we have all of spring’s bounty to enjoy. We’re planning a simple courthouse wedding by the end of the month. We may not have galas and parades to celebrate this love but there’s truly no need. At the end of the day, it’s not about glamor, pomp, and circumstance, perfect pumps, royal weddings, or elaborate proposals…it’s the little things. 

Toodle-oo for now!

From Volume 872 Issue 28 – Subscribe here, members, to be the first to get the next newsletter!