Practical gift for The Special One

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My cheap little homemade paper greetings that asked simply, “Won’t you be my valentine?” were good enough for the girls in Miss Wheeler’s class.

All except one, that is – the one who sat at the desk directly in front of mine, the one with the golden ponytail, the one who had captured my 8-year-old heart.

She was my One True Love, although she didn’t know it. In fact, she had never acknowledged that I existed on Planet Earth.

I had to get her something special. But with what? I didn’t even have two nickels to rub together.

Thankfully, I did have one nickel. And thankfully Wrigley’s spearmint cost just five cents.

I got into class early and left a package of it on her desk, on top of one of my greeting cards.

Miss Wheeler, of course, did not allow chewing gum while in class. I watched My True Love during recess as she opened the Wrigley’s and stuck a stick into that cute little mouth with the gleaming white teeth.

Then she gave a stick to the boy seated beside her!

Did she offer me one? Heck no.

So much for true love.

A NOVEL GIFT

Now, many years later, as I pondered what to get my valentine for this Valentine’s Day, it was my Redneck friend, Freddie Frizzell (a third cousin to country singer William Orville “Lefty” Frizzell (1928-1975)), who gave me the idea for a very practical gift.

Freddie even gave his one and only a poem to go with it. He showed me a copy:

REDNECK VALENTINE

“Collards is green,

My dog’s name is blue;

And I’m so lucky

To have a sweet thang like you.

Yore hair is like cornsilk

A-flapping in the breeze.

Softer than Blue’s

And without all them fleas.

You move like the bass

Which excite me in May.

You ain’t got no scales

But I luv you anyway.

Yo’re as satisfy’n as okry

Jist a fry’n in the pan,

Yo’re as fragrant as ‘snuff’

Right out of the can.

You have some’a yore teeth,

For which I am proud;

I hold my head high

When we’re in a crowd.

On special occasions,

When you shave under yore arms,

Well, I’m in hawg heaven,

And awed by yore charms.

Still them fellers at work,

They all want to know,

What I did to deserve

Such a purty young doe.

Like a good roll of duct tape

Yo’re there for your man,

To patch up life’s troubles

And fix what you can.

Cut from the best cloth

Like a plaid flannel shirt,

You spark up my life

More than a fresh load of dirt.

When you hold me real tight

Like a padded gunrack

My life is complete.

Ain’t nothin’ I lack.

Yore complexion, it’s perfection,

Like the best vinyl sidin’.

Despite all the years.

Yore age, it keeps hidin’.

Me’n you’s like a Moon Pie

With a RC cold drank,

We go together

Like a skunk goes with stank.

Some men, they buy chocolate

For Valentine’s Day;

They get it at Wal-Mart,

It’s romantic that way.

Some men get roses

On that special day

From the cooler at Kroger’s.

“That’s impressive,” I say.

Some men buy fine diamonds

From a flea market booth,

“Diamonds are forever,”

They explain suave and couth.

But for this man, honey,

These won’t do.

Cause yo’re too special,

You sweet thang you.

I got you a gift

Without taste nor odor,

More useful than diamonds…

IT’S A NEW TROLLIN’ MOTOR!

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G. Sam Piatt

Reach G. SAM PIATT at (606) 932-3619 or [email protected].

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