The Cow And I

For What It's Worth...

My opponent, in one of our now-often phone conversations, lamented the fact Friday night that he hadn't had a single opportunity to eat beef the ENTIRE DAY. This was causing him much consternation and grief. At one point, he even half-jokingly suggested taking his own life. I talked him out of it. But it was touch and go there for a while.

BeefStakes is not the end-all of our universe, the pinnacle of our existence. It's just a contest. And the important thing is that we help each other through it, in whatever way we can, in the spirit of competition. I love my opponent. And I hate to see him suffer so. Guy was feeling rotten. We all have our bad days. I have mine.

So, to ease his suffering, I decided late Saturday I would make whatever small gesture I could, given the circumstances. I decided to abstain from beef the ENTIRE FOLLOWING DAY.

But then I recalled some of the issues he had raised in the past week or so. Concerns over my honesty and integrity. These concerns were somewhat frankly stated, at times: "What a sneak my opponent can be." I recalled another unambiguous reference to my character in his vituperatively penned "viper of an enemy combatant." Perhaps the most directly stated jibe of all was his hurtfully delivered "snipy serpent [that he would eventually] grind under the heel of [his] royal boot." I shed more than a few tears over that last heart-wrenching testament to his feelings.

And so, even as I turned my back on beef the entire day (and night) of Sunday, I wasn't entirely sure that my gesture of magnanimity would go over as planned. How could my opponent trust me to speak the truth when he had so unequivocally denigrated my character? How could I ensure that my token of brotherly love would be well-received? How could he not look this gift-cow in the mouth?

As I puzzled over this concern, I gradually realized that the only way he would possibly believe me would be to formalize my statement in a sworn statement, an affidavit. And so, as soon as I dropped my parents off at the airport, I hurried home and prepared the following, which I then completed in the presence of one of Cook County's finest notaries, one Ms. Faszczewska, whose demeanor remained composed and serious, despite the curious contents of the instrument, while fulfilling her solemn duty of notarization.

Looking back at this experience, I can say that I've felt more than a little worried about my opponent's state of mind since our brief, yet altogether painful, skirmish over the past week. I hope that this gesture offers some palliative to my dear friend. However, I expect that he will view the contents of my affidavit with suspicion.

Nonetheless, in the end, what else could I do? I'm only human, as is he.

But then I remember the words of wisdom uttered so long ago which, despite the passage of time, still have great meaning for us all: to err is human, to forgive divine. I must turn the other cheek, as it were.

So Guy, I forgive you for your outburst. Look for some measure of peace within yourself, as I've found within me. You knew not what you did. And, even if you could never conceive of reciprocating, I hope that in some small way my humble gift to you may yet warm some dark corner of your cold, wizened heart.

I'm praying that it will.

Posted by eric at July 13, 2004 03:39 PM