Road Apples by Tim Sanders
Jan. 3, 2011

The abomination of resolutions and grub a plenty


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It is that time of year when those of us who wish to improve ourselves resolve to do so, and even make short lists to remind us of what improvements we need to make. I have such a list here on my desk. My wife compiled it, and counting footnotes it is nineteen pages long. She put a lot of time into my list, typed it out on the computer, printed it and made several copies. Some of the more important pages are taped to the refrigerator, which I visit often, and other less significant items were strategically left lying about the house in places where I’d be sure to notice them. The section entitled Neatness, for example, was left in my underwear drawer, while the section listed under the general heading Bathroom Hygiene was naturally left tacked to the bathroom cupboard. The unabridged version of the list has a wide variety of topics including Morality, Efficiency, Piety, Table Etiquette, and Inappropriate Gastrointestinal Emissions. I made the mistake of telling her that the list she’d made for me was about eighteen and nine-tenths pages longer than the one I’d compiled myself, and that of course reminded her to add another section which she called Completing Assigned Chores. Now my resolution list is twenty-two pages long.

I’d considered reciprocating, but I decided that making a list for her would be courting disaster. If my Marilyn List were to contain just one item, let alone twenty-two pages chock full of them, I would be consigned to sleeping in the basement with the cat for the remainder of the winter. Not that I couldn’t come up with a few things that bother me; we have been married for 43 years, after all.
I was looking at my own list, pondering the section on excessive nose hair growth, when it occurred to me that these were the kinds of things that should be discussed at the beginning of a relationship. Or even before the relationship begins.

All of which reminded me of a classified ad in the PERSONALS section of last week’s (December 27) Post. The gentleman who submitted the ad knew what he was looking for, and listed a few requirements which would weed out undesirable applicants. The ad had a certain literary elegance to it which impressed me. Here’s the ad, word for word, from page 24:


“Single WM preparing for the tribulation. Matt. ch. 24 need a Heb. ch. 13:4 companion to help me. Love pork chops, catfish & blue grass music. Been married a few times. Most still living. Have fenced in land. Grub a plenty. Writer of gospel tracks. Write to Senior Citizen [Fort Payne address].”


It might not seem like it, but there’s a lot of information about the gentleman, whom we will call Mr. X, in those few lines. The reader immediately learns that he is experienced in “tribulation,” and “preparing for” more of the same. That is because he’s been married “a few times,” as he modestly puts it. The added fact that “most [are] still living” may seem inconsequential, but it is the kind of thing which would encourage a prospective companion. (You probably remember the case of Lyle Pettinger, of Boaz, who was a favorite at Methodist box socials back in the 1940s. He met five of his six wives at church socials in the area, but all five died of intestinal problems, and eventually suspicion fell upon his popular rum potato salad. Even though his sixth wife remained with him for almost eight years until an unfortunate fishing mishap involving a poorly tossed anchor took her, his efforts at church socials never yielded any more results. Mr. Pettinger eventually changed denominations, and haunted Baptist box socials for a time, but it didn’t do him any good, marriage-wise. Word about bad potato salad gets around.) There is also a reference to Matthew 24, but no specific verses are mentioned. We read the entire chapter, and it is very depressing, dealing with the last days and crumbling temples and wars and famines and pestilences and false prophets and Noah’s flood and something called the abomination of desolation and other dreadful things which Mr. X most likely mentioned so as to assure any respondents that he doesn’t expect much out of a relationship.

The fact that Mr. X has “fenced in land” and “grub a plenty” tells the reader that he is financially well set, and enjoys fine cuisine, as long as it consists mainly of “pork chops and catfish.” The fact that he never mentions potato salad is definitely a point in his favor. As for interests and hobbies, Mr. X likes bluegrass music and writing “gospel tracks.” We assume this means “gospel tracts,” but we are not sure.

As to the lucky lady’s qualifications, the reference to Hebrews 13:4 shows that his standards are high, and would certainly include more than the ability to fry catfish and pork chops: “Marriage is honorable in all, and the bed undefiled; but whoremongers and adulterers God will judge.” Since Mr. X admits that he’s a senior citizen, and since we can only assume that he’s looking for another senior citizen, the whoremonger and adulterer part is probably unnecessary, but it doesn’t hurt to throw it in there, just to be on the safe side.

By and large it is an excellent personal ad, and delivers a large quantity of information in a very concise manner. It combines undefiled marriage beds and tribulation and bluegrass music and pork chops and fenced in land and grub a plenty, with gospel “tracks,” and even a reference to a few surviving ex-wives. It is the kind of thing most of us couldn’t compose without either divine guidance, or at least several bottles of NyQuil.

If Mr. X had been available to give Marilyn a hand, my 2011 Resolution List would be a lot shorter, and every bit as incomprehensible.