My Valentine

My girlfriend, Patricia, is a treasure. She is also a real bona fied trooper.

Our first date occurred two days before the day that my house in Atlanta burned to the ground in 2001. She didn’t quite know what to think of me back then—she might have had good reason to be afraid—and I’m not sure if she knows what to think of me even today. But she is still with me. I talked her into moving to St. Simons with me almost one year ago—and she still comes home from Chicago every week to our little island.

I lost practically everything I had in the way of worldly possessions on that April day that an electrical fire changed my life after nearly forty two years on this planet, but at the end of the day, I still had my grandmother Bessy, my mother Betty, my sister Ginny, and my new girl Pat.

I also had a slightly used Nissan Maxima, a Chevy Suburban, a Webber Kettle “Charcoal” grill, and a Snapper self propelled lawn mower. Most men out there would say that, with the Suburban, the Webber, and the Snapper, that I had nothing to worry about—it was a good start.

Well, I’m here to tell everyone that I’ll take the ladies in my life over the iron and steel and other material stuff any day. I wouldn’t and couldn’t have made it this far without them.

I also hate the commercialism associated with Valentine’s day. I agree with the idea of recognizing your significant other, but I’m afraid that it is way too late if you wait to February 14th every year to say “I love You.”

As for my own recognition of this day, I started this morning by cooking Pat a brunch of my Oven Puff Pancake. Then I ran errands for her, picked up a couple of gifts I had previously ordered at a local stained glass shop, and ran by the grocery store to pick up a couple of extra baby eggplants for use in our dinner, my Greek Moussaka.

I have to go now because we’re about to eat dinner, and Pat say’s that she has plans for me later, so to Everyone out there I would like to say…

Happy Valentines Day