Clichés come cheap. The idiom currently making the rounds is, “…get my arms around it.” Expressive to the edge of overuse, it serves to make a point. Especially with the small things of life, which includes most everything.
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Recently a slick ad graced the cover of the Wall Street Journal magazine section. It was one of those studio conceits. You know, those fabrications concocted by Mad men to create needs they purport to satisfy by selling you something. The icon for the ‘something’ was a gorgeous teenage girl, or transgender boy (who can tell anymore?). Wonder what it was selling?
The model stood aloof, evocative, wearing a clingy white silk blouse, open front, with white pants. A Cote d’ Azure classic. The caption read, “Simple Pleasures.” It should have read, “Expensive Merchandise.” Getting one’s arms around a siren is difficult.
While it was pretty to look at, it was hard to envision anyone taking the ad seriously. Certainly not women. They know that the way is hard and the gate is narrow that leads to this look. It’s not simple, and surely not a pleasure. It requires a reduction of things, including age, starvation diets and avoidance of all things chocolate, all unpleasant pursuits.
Maybe the intention was to stir some smoldering, latent passion in men, especially old ones, who tire of looking at Dow Jones stock stats. The ones you see drooling at manikins in Victoria Secret windows. Finance will hold one’s attention only so long.
But moving on. There’re simple pleasures far less complicated than those pimped by provocative advertising. Take dogs, for example. Who can deny the simple pleasures derived from such loving creatures? They’re easy to get your arms around. Predictable and loving. Plus, they forget your faults.
Feed them anything, they’ll never leave. Unlike children, they’ll even feed themselves, consuming anything associated with trouble. Sometimes I think our dogs are so lazy they’d be bed ridden if served food on a tray.
Outdoor showers…now there’s a super simple pleasure. Add ambience with tropical plants, a stucco wall and enjoy the epitome of an au natural experience. Luxuriating in the sunlight under a huge shower-head is as close to heaven as one can get on this side of the grass…naked we come, naked we go. To compliment a man’s excessive hubris and narcissistic nature, add a mirror. Men are well-known for hugging themselves!
I would like to hug Mrs. Smith. She bakes cherry pies. Swimming in butter, slathered with Crisco and saturated in sugar, there’s no simpler pleasure on earth. I’ve often expressed deep devotion, my arms wrapped around a plate of her hot pie, vanilla ice cream melting on top. A sensual, epicurean delight even gastric juices applaud.
Fire pits…a primordial but simple pleasure you can get your arms around. Figuratively, of course. They’re reminiscent of romance. Conversation is superfluous. Staring into the flaming orange coals is mesmerizing. Their heat beats back the blackness of cold, lonely nights. Like love itself, hot and fiery, they pulsate, gasping for breath, consuming themselves into cold ashes. A good reminder to keep ones home fires burning.
Who can hate a rainy day? They’re ripe for simple pleasures. Find an old photo album, thumb through it, laugh at yourself, your children and the old days. Memories, like ghosts of the past, emerge from hidden cranial caverns into vivid recollections. Old polyester suits live again!
Simple pleasures are less about longevity than relevance. Remember the freedom of riding bikes on the silent dirt roads of our youth? Unmitigated delight. Try that today…you will be despised, cursed, or crushed. Avoid people. Buy a spin bike.
Unfortunately, simple pleasures, like expensive ones, are fleeting. Take songs, for example. My favorite for years was The Dance, by Garth. I lived its words and literally wore it out. Nothing lasts forever.
Now, for Valentine’s Day, that’s a simple pleasure really worth getting your arms around…
Bud Hearn
February 10, 2014
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