With Valentine's Day just around the corner, my stomach is already starting to turn from the saccharine injected ads that implore you to express your love with diamonds. Diamonds are not my best friends. My best friends have names. We dangle carrots.
There's a part of me that wishes there could be some brilliant scene in a movie where a father and son are fishing at a peaceful lake, probably somewhere on the coast of Maine. The nine-year old kid is still beaming over a big old trout that he's just caught (but you don't see because the animal rights activists had that spliced from the film so no one gets traumatized.) And the boy can barely contain himself for having accomplished this feat without the help of his dad. The father is divorced or a widower and in between nibbles and near misses, is answering his son's questions about women and dating and the mother he never really knew, blah, blah, blah.
Suddenly, as Hollywood would have it, there is the fish of a lifetime, and father and son together as one, spend the next minutes wrestling with and pulling at some ugly carp that just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, (not unlike Sarah Palin; except the poor fish has no other agenda but to survive and certainly no intention of running for anything but dear life). You know as well as I do that the carp is stronger than they are and father and son are going to lose the battle as they fall on their behinds after giving up the good fight. There is no concession speech. Instead, Hollywood brilliantly spins what even Washington cannot.
Then the father will say, "You'll NEVER forget the one who got away."
In the old days, he would repeat this line just in case somebody didn't catch it the first time around or missed the significance of it. But today's audiences are not as hearing impaired in the theatre as they are in real life. Deep inside ourselves, we all know that what the man is saying is true.
We always remember (even fondly) what we have known, but we never forget the fish that got away.
Perhaps, neither do I. In case you're wondering though, I do love chocolate. And I don't need Valentine's Day or romance to satisfy that craving.