The Unintended Gift
©2016 C. Henry Martens
I was getting married, and I was young and immature, naïve and… yes, stupid. I had no idea what I was getting into. My mind was racing, my loins were throbbing, and my ideas of what the future held were percolating at a furious pace. A friend of mine walked up to me and asked a question.
First, let me say something about the gorgeous young woman that I was about to marry. Her name was, and is, Bambi.
Yes, Bambi… That name of Disney movies and small fawns scampering across mountain meadows. The one that hunters use to describe their kill or what they wish to kill. Also, a name very often associated with hookers and strippers, as well as brainless bimbos.
So my wife-to-be was saddled with a name. Something that people could make assumptions about, or make fun of, or calmly ignore until they got to understand what a wonderful person she is.
I had already been privileged to introduce her several times, and the most common first question was always, “Is that your real name?” uttered in incredulous tones.
And my fiancé fell into the trap of becoming what people often expect. Well, at least on the surface. She is a girly girl. Kind and warm and engaging to everyone. Also playing to the people who think a Bambi can’t have much of a brain. No physicist would ever have engaged her in a debate over dark matter or time travel. She fit the image.
And this is what I fell in love with. But oh, there was so much more than that. I was privileged to find it out right away, that my intended had a brain, and a fierce courage, and was as tough as a wrecking yard guard dog. Those physicists might have learned a thing or two.
So anyway… the question my friend asked. “Do you ever get tired of the *Bambi-isms*?”
I knew right away what he meant. My girlfriend was prone to verbalizing odd words and phrases that were part of the persona her name engendered. You might also call them *cutie-isms* or something else pointing to the fact that they would be invented by someone with a pure and gentle heart, but lacking any concern for linguistic propriety. She was also full of unusual enthusiasms, often squealing in delight at beauty or laughing out loud when she found humor in a small child’s actions or an animal cavorting.
I was taken aback at my friend’s enquiry, but in the concern of the moment I passed it off as a funny remark and just responded that I didn’t. Done deal… or was it?
So, we got married. In the next weeks I had several occasions to think about that question, “Do you ever get tired of the Bambi-isms?”
I came to realize something valuable, which has proven out over time. I had to make a decision to become tired of the woman I married, and perhaps try to mold her into something more acceptable… or I could make a different choice, relax, and enjoy the woman she is.
I had married my Bambi because she was attractive to me the way she was. Why would I make a decision to be embarrassed by her being herself? I began to see it as a challenge, to embrace the woman I fell in love with. What kind of self-righteous clod would choose to squelch that which attracted him to his mate, anyway?
Because of that question, one that I’m sure was asked in intentioned good will and I suspect in order to bring me around to seeing what I needed to do to create an acceptable spouse, I hesitated and actually spent time thinking about what I wanted. And I chose Bambi.
This question is the gift I consider my most precious ever. A gift unintended, but one that has afforded me as much pleasure and appreciation for life as I have ever gotten from anything physical… except for the woman it was questioning.
I shared the question with Bambi long ago and thanked her for being who she is. We have had fun with it, as I join in her enthusiasms, although in a more restrained way. But she knows that I appreciate her being full of life and teaching me how to look through her eyes at the world. She has turned it around on me and thanked me for her opportunity to see through my eyes, as well.
I would feel remiss if I didn’t include some of the Bambi-isms that I have accumulated over the years. These are the ones I have written down, perhaps to be used in a book or two when I write them.
The Bambi in my life:I don’t tra la la when I feel like crap.SqweechSplurtledTenderlingIt’s better to be upright when I walkA duh thingSmunchedOut of the corner of my earTummy bell (commonly called a belly button)Dit dit (this applies to many things mechanical, including windshield wipers and remote controls)ChillaxEar ballI like doing it in peets and bissesPickety little thingsKlinkleHotter than petuniasHandy as a pocketSqwinchedOutrance (as opposed to entrance)I don’t nik nak or patty wak anymoreThis plant is getting a look-at-this
Think of what I could have missed if I had squelched this wonderful person. Thank you, David… you know who you are. And thank you Bambi. I like doing it in peets and bisses, too.
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I was getting married, and I was young and immature, naïve and… yes, stupid. I had no idea what I was getting into. My mind was racing, my loins were throbbing, and my ideas of what the future held were percolating at a furious pace. A friend of mine walked up to me and asked a question.
First, let me say something about the gorgeous young woman that I was about to marry. Her name was, and is, Bambi.
Yes, Bambi… That name of Disney movies and small fawns scampering across mountain meadows. The one that hunters use to describe their kill or what they wish to kill. Also, a name very often associated with hookers and strippers, as well as brainless bimbos.
So my wife-to-be was saddled with a name. Something that people could make assumptions about, or make fun of, or calmly ignore until they got to understand what a wonderful person she is.
I had already been privileged to introduce her several times, and the most common first question was always, “Is that your real name?” uttered in incredulous tones.
And my fiancé fell into the trap of becoming what people often expect. Well, at least on the surface. She is a girly girl. Kind and warm and engaging to everyone. Also playing to the people who think a Bambi can’t have much of a brain. No physicist would ever have engaged her in a debate over dark matter or time travel. She fit the image.
And this is what I fell in love with. But oh, there was so much more than that. I was privileged to find it out right away, that my intended had a brain, and a fierce courage, and was as tough as a wrecking yard guard dog. Those physicists might have learned a thing or two.
So anyway… the question my friend asked. “Do you ever get tired of the *Bambi-isms*?”
I knew right away what he meant. My girlfriend was prone to verbalizing odd words and phrases that were part of the persona her name engendered. You might also call them *cutie-isms* or something else pointing to the fact that they would be invented by someone with a pure and gentle heart, but lacking any concern for linguistic propriety. She was also full of unusual enthusiasms, often squealing in delight at beauty or laughing out loud when she found humor in a small child’s actions or an animal cavorting.
I was taken aback at my friend’s enquiry, but in the concern of the moment I passed it off as a funny remark and just responded that I didn’t. Done deal… or was it?
So, we got married. In the next weeks I had several occasions to think about that question, “Do you ever get tired of the Bambi-isms?”
I came to realize something valuable, which has proven out over time. I had to make a decision to become tired of the woman I married, and perhaps try to mold her into something more acceptable… or I could make a different choice, relax, and enjoy the woman she is.
I had married my Bambi because she was attractive to me the way she was. Why would I make a decision to be embarrassed by her being herself? I began to see it as a challenge, to embrace the woman I fell in love with. What kind of self-righteous clod would choose to squelch that which attracted him to his mate, anyway?
Because of that question, one that I’m sure was asked in intentioned good will and I suspect in order to bring me around to seeing what I needed to do to create an acceptable spouse, I hesitated and actually spent time thinking about what I wanted. And I chose Bambi.
This question is the gift I consider my most precious ever. A gift unintended, but one that has afforded me as much pleasure and appreciation for life as I have ever gotten from anything physical… except for the woman it was questioning.
I shared the question with Bambi long ago and thanked her for being who she is. We have had fun with it, as I join in her enthusiasms, although in a more restrained way. But she knows that I appreciate her being full of life and teaching me how to look through her eyes at the world. She has turned it around on me and thanked me for her opportunity to see through my eyes, as well.
I would feel remiss if I didn’t include some of the Bambi-isms that I have accumulated over the years. These are the ones I have written down, perhaps to be used in a book or two when I write them.
The Bambi in my life:I don’t tra la la when I feel like crap.SqweechSplurtledTenderlingIt’s better to be upright when I walkA duh thingSmunchedOut of the corner of my earTummy bell (commonly called a belly button)Dit dit (this applies to many things mechanical, including windshield wipers and remote controls)ChillaxEar ballI like doing it in peets and bissesPickety little thingsKlinkleHotter than petuniasHandy as a pocketSqwinchedOutrance (as opposed to entrance)I don’t nik nak or patty wak anymoreThis plant is getting a look-at-this
Think of what I could have missed if I had squelched this wonderful person. Thank you, David… you know who you are. And thank you Bambi. I like doing it in peets and bisses, too.
Sign up to receive the Apocalypse Observer Newsletter in your inbox
www.readmota.com
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