It was a long, cold, snowy trip yesterday, but the manuscript for The Handyman's Reality was delivered
to the publisher on time. I had planned to take a mental health day today and sprawl on the couch with a book or two,
but a look at the calendar got me to thinking.
Groundhog Day is Friday, and since I have an air show to do, I'm sure my weather forecasts will be filled with droll
references to groundhog shadows, or the lack thereof. Valentine's Day is a scant twelve days later. My first reaction
to that impending celebration is a sigh and a slightly sarcastic "woo hoo." Kind of a surprising attitude
for the author of The Handyman's Dream -- a book chock-filled with gay romance and gushy endearments -- huh?
I've always said the best thing about Valentine's Day is the day after, when all of that candy goes on sale
at half price. My favorite song for Valentine's Day for years was "Love Stinks" by the J. Geils Band. Oh, I've
had a few genuinely romantic Valentine's Days in my life, and somewhere along the way Jim Brickman's "Valentine" replaced "Love
Stinks" as my song of choice for February 14. However, as Ed and Rick discuss in The Handyman's Dream,
it can be a cruel, lonely day for a lot of people, for a lot of reasons.
In the last ten years my feelings on Valentine's Day have gone from disgust to ambivalence. I was (and still am)
annoyed at the crass commercial stuff, and the fact that so many people feel left out of the manufactured joy for this
almighty season for lovers. However, I think I began to see Valentine's Day in a slightly different light in 1998.
In February of that year my relationship with Steve was heating up and the romance factor was quite high.
However, before all this sweetness had begun, Steve had made ironclad plans to spend mid-February with an old friend
at a gay Costa Rican resort. So, not only was I going to be alone for Valentine's Day, I had to work as well.
At the time I was the Saturday night host for "Love Songs on Majic," an extremely popular radio request and dedication show,
and since Valentine's Day fell on a Saturday that year, it was sure to be a busy night. Well, I decided I could either
grumble about the whole thing, or I could accept the situation, and concentrate on creating the best damned Valentine's
Love Songs on Majic show ever.
Titanic-mania was in high gear that winter, and one of our most requested songs was "My Heart Will Go On."
I decided to use the song as a theme for the show that night, and encouraged listeners to call in with stories of lost love,
timeless love, and whether their hearts had indeed gone on. I worked hard on this show, never suspecting that
four years later I would have a story of my own to tell. Steve died three weeks before Valentine's Day 2002,
and to this day I thank my boss and her husband for hauling me off to a comedy club that Valentine's night so I
could laugh instead of cry.
Anyway, the show was a huge success that night in '98, and I was touched and moved by the stories listeners shared.
There literally was something for everyone, whether they were mourning a lost love, reflecting on a love gone bad, in
the giddy flush of a new romance, or, as in one sweet case, a married couple renewing their vows that night. For
those who were alone or stuck at work, I reminded them I was alone and stuck at work as well, and for that one night
we were all friends and bonding through the magic of radio and our mutual enjoyment of the songs I was playing.
I wrapped up the show at midnight with one of my favorite movie quotes, Bette Davis's "don't let's ask for the moon; we have
the stars" from Now, Voyager. And I reminded the folks still tuned in that we had learned that night that our
hearts were pretty durable organs after all. Hope and optimism, I said, were still free for the taking, and of course
mentioned that the leftover Valentine's candy would be on the cheap the next day.
I drove home with my usual post-good show high, and thought about the show and the stories I had heard.
I realized I wasn't mouthing a bunch of bullshit with my remark that hearts were durable organs. It was true, and I
had a cassette copy of that air show to prove it. I had made it through the night without playing "Love Stinks," and
something about the experience of the evening allowed me to retire the song from my Valentine's playlist once and for
all. Love, I realized, didn't stink. Rather, we, as impatient human beings, have a tendency to place some pretty big
demands on Love. More importantly, we allow society's customs and conformity to increase those demands to
an often unreasonable level. Since I'm a slow learner when it comes to emotions, I think I finally realized
that night that our emphasis on romantic love and the desire for that Special Someone in our lives often blinds us to
the loving emotional warmth and nourishment we receive from family and friends.
So, although I still get annoyed with the whole concept of Valentine's Day, every year now I make it a point
to buy a few Valentine's cards and send them off to folks as my way of reminding them how grateful I am
to have them in my life, whether or not I have a Special Someone with whom to celebrate. And of course, I hit the
stores on February fifteenth to pick up some cheap candy.
In The Handyman's Dream, Ed and Rick are truly blessed by the deep love they have for one
another. In so many ways, their story is about wish fullfillment and dreams coming true, and my own durable heart
has been lifted by the emails I've received from readers who wrote to tell me how Ed and Rick's romance gave them hope for
a special love of their own. However, if the mailman at your house doesn't turn out to be the man of
your dreams this Valentine's Day, make sure you let someone in your life know you love them, okay? As I always
say about holidays that society crams down our throats to remind us how lonely we are, if you can't lick 'em, join 'em.
Make the most of what you already have, and as I said on the radio that night in 1998, hope and optimism are still free for
the taking.
The Handyman's Reality will be one step closer to becoming a book this next week when the manuscript arrives
at the publisher.
January has been a rough month around here; back to back illnesses have left me feeling as though I'm running behind
on everything, but I've managed to get the manuscript changes done on schedule, and it will go off to the publisher on
time. Yay!
I'm having a hell of a time keeping my mouth shut about "what happens next," so I'm really looking forward to getting
the finished product out into the world.
In the meantime, winter has finally arrived here in northern Indiana. Although many are bitching, I actually enjoyed
getting the snow shovel out last weekend. Hell, I was just glad to know it survived the move last summer, and landed
safely in the garage!
So, for those readers looking forward to more of Ed's story, I'm hoping it will be available for you around the time
the lilacs bloom here in Indiana. I'll keep you posted.
P.S. Still mourning the death of The Mamas and The Papas vocalist Denny Doherty. In The Handyman's
Dream, Ed comments that he gets chills from Doherty's soaring, haunting vocal work on "Monday, Monday." Ed's
not alone in that respect. Rest in peace, Denny, and thanks for the music. As I told folks last weekend,
I can't help but think you met up with Cass in Rock and Roll Heaven, and once again the two of you are making some incredible
harmony.
