My mother was a good person,
much more than this only son
deserved. Two things she told
me I always remembered and,
believe me, I just wish I had
remembered more, especially
about the fatal attraction I seem
to bring out in women. For
better but mostly worse, I am
saddled with a track record more
checkered than spotless, namely
for the wrong type of woman
or maybe for the right type at
the wrong time in my life. I
have paid but I have also moved
on, the search never ended, no
thanks to the advice my mother
gave me. She sat me down when
I was seven and, at intervals far
past my eluding that mythical
age of reason, she would remind
me that when a person starts out on
the long journey God gives him a
library card, each to his own gifts
from the great lending library, talents
to read about, learn from and to use
to the utmost or the least-which of
those special abilities. When it's time
and your one act play is over and
you're called before the docket, she
would say, you will be judged on
how you best utilized or did not utilize
that library card and all its secret
knowledge. Then she would follow
this sage advice by saying that the last
thing God will ask you is what religion
you belong to. And this from a saintly
Irish Catholic woman with a not so
saintly Irish Catholic son.
None of this, dear reader, will be
on the test.
Worse Than A Thief
A scoundrel is far more scornful than a cad,
even an Irish one, but a lover with a poor
memory for inflicting pain on another is,
like the song from Old Smoky, worse than
a thief. My reputation may be dubious but
I am not duplicitous.
And so I send to you a good friend whom my
own fine Irish Mom would testify, if she were
here with me, is a far, far better man than I.
And how would this be for an upstanding Irish
O'Moniker but Michael O'Malley?
Michael has enough character for two of the unlikely
likes of me and he is survived by both a shining emerald
of a mother and a father by the same lilting Irish name.
He has an MBA from Yale and a big job in marketing for
Lee I. O'cocca where they think he hung the moon and
the stars. I think the same and the message I send is a
message from Mike.
Got a pen? It goes like this:
My name is Mike and I am very glad to meet you.