Tom Selleck Owes Me an Apology

Tom Selleck owes me an apology. Anyone my age knows the unobtainable standard he set for a teenage boy just coming into maturity. Why, do you ask, am I seeking contrition from him?

Good looks? No.

Suave disposition? No.

All the ladies? No…well maybe.

I’m talking about the hair…his stinking perfect hair.

Tom_Selleck_Kahala_Hilton

When all of the girls had a picture of the Magnum PI in mind, how could any of us real boys measure up? Curly coiffure, bushy mustache, chest hair, leg hair… There it is! Leg hair. Recently, smooth has become stylish and I would have been perfect for this new generation. But that isn’t my generation. When I was in high school and college, the girls wanted hair and lots of it. Hair I didn’t have.  Well, that’s not absolutely true. Science should study my leg hair because it is translucent like that of a polar bear. It’s there, just not to the naked eye. It only shows up if I have a deep tan, which is near impossible for someone of Swedish/Germanic descent. Undaunted, I went to the pool, laid out, and held my legs just right so that passing females might possibly get the proper angle to spot a few strands.

As a freshman in college, I went so far as to purchase a tanning package. I donned little glasses and laid on top of the plastic surface to bake. And bake I did. Remember the shorts Magnum used to wear? Not long like they are today, 80’s shorts came way up on the thigh. Hoping my tan would expose leg hair from the top of my leg to my toes, I even pulled them up higher. Oh yeah, I got burned in very sensitive areas. It hurt for weeks and didn’t help my hair stand out whatsoever.

We all have physical characteristics we would rather minimize or hide completely. Just the other day, I was talking with a friend who told me her 10 year-old daughter E had been called fat by another girl. My heart sank. Her sweet little girl is now self-conscious about something as irrelevant as my smooth legs. She is active and isn’t overweight in the least, but also isn’t waif-thin like so many women our society seems to put on a pedestal. Such a tragedy.

I want so much for her and other little girls to see what truly matters about themselves instead of what is fleeting.

Your beauty should not consist of outward things … Instead, it should consist of what is inside the heart with the imperishable quality of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very valuable in God’s eyes.

1 Peter 3:3-4

That’s what is important. I hope my daughters know that. I pray little E learns that too. We have to tell them they are beautiful and keep on telling them until they understand. That’s how God sees them.

So Tom, whenever you are ready, it has taken 25 years, but I am finally over your provocation and prepared to accept your apology. It’s been a long time coming.

Photo credit to Alan Light

The DVR Effect on Husbands

I have always been told I was a selective listener. If I were called to stand trial for this deficiency, my mother would be the first witness called to the stand. Countless times my chin rested in her hand while she said those five words all boys hate: “Let me see your eyes!”

Teacher after teacher could give valid testimony against me. But the prosecution’s star witness would be the woman who’s suffered with my malady for the longest – my poor wife. When I zone out, she constantly gives me the look that lets me know she’s onto me. Rarely does she patronize me with the five-word command, but she has ways of making sure I’m listening. Some are gentle, some are not.

When we found out I had hearing loss in both ears, I immediately pegged it as the culprit. Truth be known, it’s not. If I were brutally honest, I would admit that I hear some things and choose to keep my head down. Unknowing, unhearing, un-responsible for whatever I’m being told.  I know, it’s not healthy and not good.  But don’t act all holier than thou, men. As if your sense of smell suddenly abandons you whenever you hand your baby back to your wife and didn’t happen to notice their full diaper.

So there has always been an irritation. The onset of the Digital Video Recorder has grown it to a plague. In my television viewing, no longer am I required to pay attention to anything. I can give the TV a cursory glance and if I want to go back, I can hit the magical button that pushes time backwards fifteen seconds to fill in the blanks. It is amazing! It is brilliant! It is revolutionary…but not for relationships. image

Because of the DVR, I don’t listen to anyone when they begin talking to me anymore. It’s not my fault, my brain has been conditioned that the first fifteen seconds of anything don’t matter because I have a magic button. “Honey, can you get the large pot from the cabinet, fill it with water, and put it on to boil,” becomes the simple phrase, “to boil,” which means absolutely nothing, thereby absolving me of any responsibility to help in the kitchen.

This is excellent news for me, but not for my wife. You see, she doesn’t have the receiver that takes the signal from the magic button – nor does she want one. She will repeat herself, but seems to be very annoyed when forced, at which point I naturally point to my ears and claim hearing loss. After twenty-one years, she knows that game well and wins it more often than not. Defeated, I put on water to boil and wish I could learn to pay attention.

Fortunately for our marriage, I don’t watch much TV. But when I do, I hold the magic button in my hand and am invigorated! And the cycle begins anew.