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February 8, 2002 - It Must Have Been Gerald Terrelli by Mary-Ellen Grisham
Welcome to 2TheHeart's Funny Friday, to start your weekend off with a chuckle!
This week's Funny Quotes:
"Power corrupts. Absolute power is kind of neat." - John Lehman (US secretary of the Navy)
"My girlfriend is weird. She asked me, "If you could know how and when you were going to die, would you want to know?" I said, "No." She said, "Okay, then forget it." (Steven Wright)
"Did you ever notice when you blow in a dog's face he gets mad at you? But when you take him in a car he sticks his head out the window!" (Steve Bluestone)
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I was delighted with this story by Mary-Ellen, as she usually treats us to tear-jerkers and inspiring poetry. This pre-Valentine Funny Friday shows her humorous side!
"It Must Have Been Gerald Terrelli!"
by Mary-Ellen Grisham
Every time scientists discover new planets beyond our solar system, a niggling and irrational thought comes to mind. Maybe out there, somewhere, on some pile of rocks in wobbly orbit around a distant star, is my true soul mate. It is not as if I have searched the earth to find my truest friend, companion, and love; it is more
compellingly accurate to say that such a search has not been my main goal. Though pragmatic people always preach that love is a practical arrangement, I have seen, along the way, some evidence that real love and special friendships do occur outside of books.
My own road to true love was beset with a few pitfalls. In third grade, a good-looking kid by the name of Gerald Terrelli seemed to have a certain interest in me. He offered to walk me home from school. Little did I realize that Eddie Summers, the most popular boy in the class had put him up to it. Because Eddie held all the girlish hearts in our class, he had decided to start delegating them. Gerald and I set off from school to walk the mile to my house in great good spirits, with Gerald carrying my books in the manner of storybook fame.
As we walked, the money I had left over from lunch, a whole nickel, became an irresistible temptation. As we passed through his neighborhood, I urged him to use my nickel at the corner grocery to buy us candy. A few minutes later, Gerald came out of the store, my nickel in hand. The store-keeper was not keen on selling candy to kids because of admonitions from the parents. That did it! What good was Gerald if he couldn't con the corner grocer into selling us candy. He added insult to disappointment when he told me he didn't mind walking me home, because Eddie wanted him to, but that he couldn't get in trouble with his folks over candy.
In saucy little-girl fashion, I pointed out that I was interested in cultivating boyfriends in grade school so that I would have dates in high school--especially for the prom. He retorted that while he didn't mind having me for a friend, his father's job caused them to move a lot and that he probably wouldn't be around for high
school. "Okay," I thought, "scratch Gerald Terrelli."
My mom was aghast at my behavior when I told her the story and lectured me at length about enjoying friendships along the way without ulterior motives. "OK, MOM!" I thought, "GOT IT!" ("Scratch directness and long range planning.")
My pre-teen years were beset with other questionable endeavors. Patrick was the plum of the collective eye at that point. As the main male at our church youth group, he flirted with all the girls, danced with them all, ate quantities of church food, had a ball with all the activities, but dated nobody. We frivolous females formed the PCF Club (The Patrick Clark Fan Club) to cherish our collective crush, but nothing ever came of it for any of us. In one mad moment, trying to maximize my emotional investment, I told Patrick that my mom had always thought he and I belonged together. I got this sickly grin in return and the firm assurance that he did not think we would eventually date and marry. "OK," I thought, "GOT IT!" ("Scratch groupy-ism and attempting to force undeclared avowals of love")
When I relayed this important revelation to mom, she laughed, gave me hug, and impishly said, "Maybe you should have held onto Gerald Terrelli!"
High School was another matter. Having finally achieved that auspicious position, I did have plenty of friends and a great four years, but I still had not learned my lesson. While I enjoyed group dating, prom was still the bogeyman lurking just under the surface of my busy schedule. Weeks before prom, a boy I had been good friends with for six years did in fact ask me to prom. My best friend just adored this young man, and I knew it. Hinting that I was expecting a different offer, I suggested he ask my best friend, dwelling, at length, on her many great qualities.
However no other offers came. Maybe word had gotten out that I turned down one offer and others were afraid to try or maybe the word was that I already had a date. I ended up going to prom alone, at the last minute, at the insistence of my parents and a teacher. The few boys without dates manfully tried to dance with all the girls without dates, but it was a dismal situation. When I tried to explain the horrors of prom without a date to my folks, even my mom didn't revive the memory of the long since moved away Gerald Terrelli. I think she knew I was truly mortified. "OK," I thought, "GOT IT!" ("Scratch nobility and sacrifice!")
While even romance novels point out that the path to true love is seldom straight, I don't think any of us ever give up on the priceless nature of real love. While each of us may have our own romantic foibles to relate, such humorous enjoyment is directed mostly at our own youthful inability to seize opportunities in
appropriate ways. Eventually we marry and make workable lives for ourselves, enjoying that extra sparkle of love.
However, today, I got an email on my incoming list that began, "Gerald Ter..." Shocked, I opened it to discover only another ad for investments by a Gerald Terry. "Whew, that was a near miss," I thought. Thinking of Mom and soul mates, I sighed, "I guess it really must have been Gerald Terrelli." ("Ok," I whispered tongue in cheek, "scratch the charm of the unending search!")
(c)2001 Mary-Ellen Grisham
fantasy@apci.net
The names used in the story are fictitious to protect the truly innocent!
Mary-Ellen Grisham is a writer, teacher, and hopeless romantic living in Godfrey, Illinois, with (believe it or not) her husband and son. While she is frequently funnier when she is not trying to be, she still presses on with the comedy routines. Susan shamelessly encouraged her by publishing "Invading the Barber Shop" as a Funny Friday. Her poetry and inspirational stories have also appeared at 2theHeart, and she is widely published on the Internet--not usually with humorous pieces, however.
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