Romance is such a pretty word, don’t you think? A pretty idea. Almost lost in the 21st century. Where did it go? I think it’s another of those wonderful healthy human traits. We can all indulge in a romantic spirit
Romance is such a pretty word, don’t you think?
A pretty idea. Almost lost in the 21st century. Where did it go?
I think it’s another of those wonderful healthy human traits. We can all indulge in a romantic spirit or sentiment, in a romantic aura. Don’t you just love “aura?” To indulge in fanciful stories or day dreams? I think there’s a time for that. I think we should all make time for that.
We don’t have to go overboard or get lost in romantic pastimes, but to prop yourself in the shade of a comforting tree and find romance in every moment is good for everything that ails you. Birds, I think, are filled with romance. A friend of mind said, “Birds are pure spirits.”
I like that, too, and I must remind Duke, my favorite Macaw, when he starts to swear — I didn’t teach him — or turn the air blue, green and purple with screeches to which this entire valley is subject.
I love Duke, he is pure spirit, but he has a Mephistophelean streak as broad as all outdoors. Maybe he envies the sweet romantic bird twitters that ring through the trees in my jungle. But, isn’t it true? We could not enjoy romance if we didn’t have reckless twaddle as balance. Everything must balance.
Balance romantic strawberry shortcake with stewed prunes lying limp in a bowl. Yuck.
I’m not great on romantic novels — they’re a little too sweets for my taste — but tales of heroes and heroines and ‘extraordinary or mysterious’ events can be considered romantic, too. Remember Gone with the Wind and Wuthering Heights? Who in the world could ever forget Heathcliff?
I can remember when war films were not romantic. I remember fondly Romancing the Stone. Jane Wilder was a romance novelist. Such a fun, wonderful, romantic adventure.
Think of romantic textures. Velvet versus tweed. Silk robes versus Turkish cotton. Hats to be worn at Ascot opening day by beautiful women versus baseball caps slopped backwards.
Shalimar versus sweaty briefs.
Ginger Rogers and Fred Astair versus Madonna and chorus in ugly underwear.
Equestriennes on gorgeous steeds versus whatevers on bikes. No prejudice or intolerance intended.
I think we really need to bring back romance. Grab it by the collar. Haul it in like a trout on a line.
Voluptuate — I think I invented that word — in serious pleasant pastimes. Eat lots’a M&M’s. Drink lots’a ice Chardonnay with crackers and cheese. Unrestrained pleasure: Climb a tree. Sit astride a strong limb. Grand soirees out in the carport with your neighbors and kids and dogs. Cheat and eat a hot dog in a hot dog bun slavered with mustard. And catsup.
Go back to writing with pencil and long yellow legal instead of swearing at screwball computers with attitudes. Mine hates it when I make up words.
I gotta go. My mind is bending. Romantically. I’m getting carried away.
• Bettejo Dux is a Kalaheo resident and the author of “The Scam: A madcap romp through North Shore Kauai.”
