February 2008 - Sincerely Sire Newsletter

Bless You!

I don’t know where to begin. She has done so many things to upset and amuse me at the same time lately. No, I’m not talking about the dog—always gotta get my dog jokes in—I’m talking about the little lady, Rosemarie, Roe for short.

Let me get straight to the problem. When Roe sneezes, I always say “Bless you!” If she sneezes twice I bless her twice, if she sneezes three times I bless her three times and so on. But if she sneezes really fast, then I just bless her once for all her sneezes, no matter how many times she has sneezed. I’m very good at it. Very reliable.

She doesn’t really like to be blessed. I think it annoys her as was illustrated last night when she sneezed and I said, Bless You! and she said “Thanks…I guess.” She didn’t think I heard the “I guess” part, but I did. But, I don’t care; I bless her no matter what.

What upsets me is that when I sneeze…nothing. She says nothing and does nothing. My sneezes are followed by dead silence. It’s embarrassing. Can’t even get blessed by his own wife. How lame is that? I wait and I wait, but she won’t bless me. This really bothers me because I can be standing next to a total stranger and when I sneeze even they bless me.

But not Roe.

So, anyway, after thirty-three years of marriage and not being blessed, I figured enough was enough. I decided to have a serious talk with her a few weeks ago. I told her that her not blessing me after I sneezed made me feel alone and unloved and that she needed to be more compassionate and show her love and acknowledgment of my “being” by blessing me after I sneezed so I could say thank you and we would have something together.

She listened intently and appeared to be “getting it,” although she did bite her cheek twice during my plea, which is a sure sign she is suppressing a grin.

So, in the days and weeks that followed I sneezed and waited. Sneezed and waited. Sneezed and prayed …bless me, bless me, BLESS ME! But, still, nothing, nothing at all. No, Bless you! No flinching at my sneezes, no nothing.

And then, just as I was about to toss in the Kleenex and completely give up, something wonderful happened…kind of.

We were walking Finn, our little Boston Terrier, on the beach. Roe had a leash around Finn’s neck with a choke chain, same as she does me. It was a cold gray morning. Rain was threatening and no one was on the beach except for the three of us. I looked at Finn tugging at her choke chain, begging to be set free…I saw myself. Roe and I were not talking—we used to talk, briefly, every fifteen minutes or so, but now, with TIVO and DVR, we just fast-forward through the commercials, which doesn’t leave much time to talk unless you speak really fast.

Things were looking bleak indeed. Finn tugged at her leash. I tugged at my collar. A light rain started to fall. This woman, my woman, was cold as ice. Doesn’t even bless me. And then, suddenly, from out of nowhere, Finn sneezed. A big wet sneeze. I thought nothing of it until I heard the words as they came out of Roe’s mouth, as she uncontrollably blurted out, “Bless You!”…to the DOG! Where does that put me in the pecking order—in the grand scheme of things? Who cares?

It’s a start!