Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

Quick post. Saint V theme. Semi-reflective of the effect of the Wakefield Doctrine on it’s curator.

First the QuintPrint¹

“No, it’s ok. I’m a saint.”

 

St Valentines is the worst, most contrived and cynical, gyno-centric guy-bait(ing), toy-with-the-emotions-of-innocent-bystanders, holiday on the whole damn calendar.  Of course we are all familiar with the origin of the holiday and the internet is positively turgid with countless blogs, and stories and articles that tell us all about Hallmark and the candy industry and the rest of the sordid tale of this day in February. I will not try to compete with these other more skilled and capable Commentators ( and -torinis), as I do not have the time or the ‘writing chops’ to do such a ripe topic justice. Instead, let me tell you about my most lasting memory of Valentines Day.

Third grade, parochial school (St. Imelda*) and a classroom of 25 students. The boys were required to wear blue shirts and blue ties with OLM printed on the front, fortunately ‘clip-on ties’ had been invented by this time, so easy-peasy; the girls wore the catholic school uniform, i.e. plaid skirts white shirt, socks.  damn, little did I realize at that pre-pubescent time of my life how potent that little Roman Catholic Church fashion dictates would become for me and countless other men at a later stage of life.  (In fact, I am feeling the tug on the cynical side of my writing-self, there is something about the whole, church-sexual-abuse-dress-the-children in outfits destined to become so hawt… lol sorry, again I lack the time or the writing skill to do justice to a topic like this… back to the story.)
So with much fanfare, Valentine’s Day arrives and we  9  year old boys and girls are told that in the afternoon, before the end of the school day, we would have time to deliver our Valentine cards to each other. ( The day before we spent ‘Art Period’ making little baskets out of construction paper and taping them to the front of our desks. These would serve as ‘mailboxes’ for the cards we would receive the next day).
The thing was, the horrible twist to this introduction to the world of love, relationships and rejection was that, the time when class stopped and we were allowed to get up and deliver our little cards was not the end of the school day! It was right after lunch… and it lasted 15 or 20 minutes…as in ‘ now return to your desks and we will continue with the afternoon’ classes’. To sit for 90 minutes staring at the contents of the container on the front of my desk… I will leave it to the Reader to decide the emotional landscape of that afternoon on a February 14th.

Anyone out there not comfortable with finishing the story, or satisfied with their conclusion of this little tale, write us a Comment! Regular Readers know that the rogers gave the biggest cards, the scotts received the most cards and the clarks delivered the most cards….secretly without the recipient ever knowing who the really fun card came from…

Now I better get back to work, before I get in trouble.

Now the refraction*

Let’s make this quick. (Yeah, like that’s ever been a problem**)

How efficacious is this here self-improvement tool, here? We wrote this, way back, in, like 2012. Told a story on our selfs. Am a clark. ok, with a significant secondary scottian aspect. Even still, given how the existential fear (and, we would maintain, the single most powerful ratio-emotional drive) is scrutiny. We read this post, even today and can’t help but say, ‘Damn!’

ok that’s all you get

[New Reader’s? while we all have but one predominant worldview, we have the potential of (a significant) secondary and tertiary aspects. They serve as … as the italics of life. Doctrinistically-speaking of course.]

 

1) next to Thanksgiving, this has gots to be the most reprinted of posts

* ha ha a little joke₂

2) don’t tell anyone, but it remains a constant source of frustration that my current writing style is so limited

** ba rum bump!