I have a saying that is used just about every day: “Nobody can beat two people.” I know, it sort of sounds strange coming from a guy that hasn’t raised his hand against anyone in at least 25 years. I mention raising my hand because even though this is not about fighting, it is still true.
You ever watch the movies where there is a bad guy who treats everybody as an opponent in a conflict over water rights or cattle brands? He just struts around with two guns hanging from his waist, pushing folks around while giving everyone the stink eye. He has been hanging around so long, folks just assume he can’t be beat.
So the hero comes into town and doesn’t know he can’t possibly beat this guy, so he probably goes up to him and for whatever reason he makes this bad guy angry. So the script is ready and although the hero gets beat up a couple of times, he doesn’t give up. Then folks rally around the bad guy. They know this hero is going to be leaving and they don’t want to do anything that will cause the bad guy to shoot their cattle or harass their women.
Now the stage is set for a big fight. The problem is they are on the side of the bad guy. They all meet in an alley or in front of the town’s city hall. You’re sitting there thinking they are all going to beat the hero into submission. That’s where the balance changes, they come after the hero, but they come one at a time. The hero throws them over fences then shoots a couple in the saloon and then goes after the bad guy. Did you catch where I said they come at him one at a time?
They don’t know that the hero is versed in many Far Eastern types of fighting. You watch until the fight is over and he makes short work of all the ones that are brave enough to try him. The fight did cost the hero and he is really pretty worn out.
Then this girl he has impressed (there is always a girl), she comes out of hiding and ministers to his wounds. The cowardly way he was beaten stirs her to learn the type of fighting the hero knows and they become partners to rid the town of this terrible crowd that has frightened the populace. This time when they face certain death, they fight as a pair. That’s what I mean by my saying, “Nobody can beat two people.” They beat the tar out of every one of the folks that traded alliances. That causes the town to come together and they get married and settle down.
The reason I mention this is because Lorraine did not know what I meant when we were first infatuated with each other. Occasionally, she would see me doing something dangerous (she says stupid) and would like to help. At first she was a little hesitant. She would sort of step back a couple of feet away.
Then I started asking her to help. This tripped the lever that controls her life and she would see how much easier it is to do when you have two people joining together to get a job done. That has also become sort of our credo when we see something that has to be done, but no one wants to start.
Now I don’t even have to say anything before she jumps over to help me with whatever task I have started. Moving furniture, washing the car, lifting heavy loads out of the car, etc. Whatever the job is, we have come together and found that it’s not just two people, but two mates that get together to get something done.
It took a while for her to get used to it, but now I think I created a new Lorraine. First I can no longer tell her my back is hurting and I can’t mow the lawn. She then says, “Hey! I’ll help. That way it won’t take any time at all.” I tell her it will take too long to paint the ceiling and she shows me the paint she has already mixed up and she even has my favorite paint brush.
The other day we were planting some flowers in the backyard. I was giving her my most scary frown. It didn’t do me any good at all. “I have all the locations marked with a rock,” she tells me. “I even got all the plants out of the pots and put them where I want them.”
Again she has anticipated my complaints. I am ignored. If it had been any other job, I could have probably told her some fantasy about my allergies. I remind her of my age and infirmities, but it would be like talking to one of the rocks she has scattered around the yard; besides, she has already heard that excuse.
“Honey,” she murmurs, “you know most guys get older and they never even get to see a plant flourish. You have a chance to see the results of your work with a beautiful plant that you planted and watered and seen grow.”
She reminds me of the cherry tomatoes we planted last year. I guess that would have been the end, but the cherry tomatoes tasted more like what we put on them to make them grow than tomatoes. It could have been my fault, but then she says, as she bends down to pluck a weed, “Nobody can beat two people.”