Saturday, November 19, 2005


On some Saturdays, I'll be writing Saturday Specials...My Own Love Stories. These will be stories out of my life.

Yesterday (Friday), Milton said he'd like to go to the outdoor concert that night in San Marco. Would I like to go? Sure, I said. We love music and outdoor concerts. Many times, we attend beach concerts just 20 minutes from our house. We sit in front of the beautiful lighted bandshell, eating fruit and sandwiches, the dunes to the side of us and the gently lapping waves a stone's throw beyond as we listen to the symphony orchestra playing everything from Beethoven to the Beatles. We've been to the Florida Folk Festival, sitting in the natural grassy ampitheatre amidst tie dye and tattoes, listening to folk ballads like What If Your Butt Was Gone? and other savory offerings that nearly make us fall off our lawn chairs laughing with friends Don and Sandra.

Music? We love it. We've been all over listening to good music. Southern gospel. Bluegrass. High-fallutin,' high-brow symphony. Hillsong Christian. Old hymns of the faith. Even a little Elvis thrown in here and there. And every blue moon, a country ballad. Did I say ballad? Can you call this country song a ballad? Before We Said I Do We Did, But Now We Don't. What a hoot. Speaking of country, Milton and I sat right beside Naomi Judd for nearly an hour several weeks ago when we had a layover in the Nashville airport. We were at a tiny table in a crowded coffee shop killing time, and Naomi Judd, her husband, her doggie, and another couple came in and sat at the next little table just 18 inches away. If I'd had my camera with me, I'd have asked for a picture. We overheard her say she'd just televised a show and was on her way somewhere to do something else in stardom.

So when Milton said let's go to an outdoor concert in San Marco, I said sure, thinking it would be in the square with its three stone lions and fountain and white gazeo. Well, it was in front of the 1888 Episcopal church on a beautiful oak-tree dotted spanse of ground. The tiny--I'm talking miniscule--white clapboard A-frame church was lit up with spotlights against the darkened night sky--a spectacular picture, and the tuxedo-clad River City Brass Band sat on the front portico, entertaining and delighting us with their talent.

It was freezing, and I had on lined velvet gloves and three layers of clothing. Okay, it was only 60 degrees, but for this blood-as-thin-as-water-Florida-native, it was cold! And, to my defense, the wind kept whipping up, causing the wind chill factor to be much lower than 60, maybe in the high 40s or low 50s. Anyway, we pulled our lawn chairs close to get body warmth as we sipped hot coffee and hummed along to I'm Proud to Be an American, Amazing Grace (yep, the symphony), and other songs.

As we sat shoulder to shoulder under massive sprawling oak trees, surrounded by young and old alike, some on lawn chairs like us, others on blankets on the ground, I thought, how romantic, sitting here in the dark by my man, his arm rubbing up against mine, my left leg entwined around his right one, his masculinity oozing out of him and over to me, litte doodads crawling up my spine. And we've been married for years and years!

It's all in how you view things. I made a vow before God and man to stay true to my husband. So if I'm going to stay true to him--if he's going to be the only man in my life--it might as well be a romantic experience, to my way of thinking. That beats drudge any day, you know? I love to teach women the concept of revisiting the sizzle, i.e., remembering what drew you to your spouse in the first place, and then finding times in your marriage to really appreciate those things and let them bring you romantic feelings as you fall in love all over again. Solomon, one of the wisest men who ever lived, said, "Rejoice with the wife of thy youth." That means husbands too.

Solomon also said, "When I found the one I love, I held him and would not let him go."

I'm holding onto my man. Faults and all. (And I'm sure he could say I have my faults too). I'm never letting him go. With the Lord's help.


At 12:17 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey, just passing by. It's a real comfort to read your blog, the beautiful entries you've wrote. God bless you!

At 1:23 PM, Blogger Kristy Dykes said...

Dear Anonymous,
Thanks for your kind comments. Keep stopping by. There's always something afoot...

At 3:29 PM, Blogger Cara Putman said...

Is this the River City Brass Band from Pittsburgh? IF so, my husband, kids and I have heard them a couple times in Indianapolis at an outdoor venue. They are wonderful! I'm sure you really enjoyed the music.

At 9:40 PM, Blogger Kristy Dykes said...

Hi, Cara. No, I'm in Florida. Just love that brass! Thanks for stopping by my blog.


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