Christmas Imperfection

Mr. R

I know that no one is perfect, but there are people who appear closer to reaching perfection than I. One of my piano student’s fathers is one of those men that reveal few, or no flaws. He is intelligent, well-educated, handsome, articulate, friendly and engaging, a great provider, his lovely and personable wife is content, his two precious daughters run to greet him at the door when he comes home from work, his home is kid-friendly, and everyone in the family seems well-adjusted, happy, and loved.

So when I heard this story about him I was a little surprised. I know he isn’t perfect, but that was only in theory; until I heard this story, I had no proof that he wasn’t. It isn’t much of a mistake and really doesn’t qualify him as an ignoramus in the same category as Yours Truly.

His wife told me he was putting Christmas lights in the front yard tree. This year he planned to do a better job than last year, so he went up a little higher. However, he went up too high, became frightened, was unable to climb down, and he quivered there on a little branch for a while until he was able to muster the courage to call his wife on his cell phone.

She said he seemed fairly calm, but he wanted her to help talk him down. If he couldn’t make it, they’d have to call the fire department. His wife and two daughters successfully talked him down with encouragement and offers of cookies, hot chocolate, and hugs and kisses if he’d just climb out of the tree.

I won’t bring this little incident up to him, and I won’t mention the fact that his Christmas lights are REALLY low in the tree this year. I used to take secret pleasure when other men would do something stupid or silly like that, but nowadays I am saddened, for it’s as if my own ability to at least appear perfect has somewhat diminished, which should no longer concern me since my motor mouth destroyed all pretensions of perfection long ago.

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