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Holly Hobby
Holly Hobby
Dearest Steve,
Real quick:
Decades ago it occurred to me, "what good is gravitas void of gratitude, fairness and humanity? What good is gravitas void of well-deserved acknowledgement and gratitude? "
The answer: void of all these things one's sense of gravitas is but an illusion.
To that end, kudos to you, Steve. Kudos to your compadres, too. Your response was/is flawless.
Only a real man knows how to handle a seriously confidant woman. Only a real man isn’t threatened by a woman unfazed by obstacles in her way, instead determined to blow right through them. Only real men, like you and your (compadre(s) are smart enough to chuckle, then get the hell out of her way.
Tragic, so few men like you. (Thank God I married one of them).
In closing:
1. You guys aren’t pussies, just like my given name isn’t Holly, instead, an unsolicited nickname that stuck. You're good men, each of you
2. My given name is Svetlana. (In keeping with Ashkenazi Jewish culture where the first child born is named in memory of the most recently deceased relative, I was named “Svetlana” in memory of my Russian Jewish, great grandmother, Svetlana, who died the year before I was born.)
In Russia, the nickname for Svetlana is Sveta, pronounced “SVEE-tah.” It wasn’t until later in life that I fully understood why my father “Americanized” my Russian name to “Etta.”
Either way, Russian blood courses through my veins. So does a sense of intrepidness. Together, further proof you and your compadres are real men. Who else but real men have the chutzpah to simply roll their eyes and sigh, thinking… “oh, she’ll get over it. Always does."
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