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One man’s aspiriations

February 4, 2010

My husband has aspirations.
He dreams of a day when he can see his name painted in large block letters on the side of a building. A day when his name will be displayed for a year to notice him as “the sorehead” of our town.

What, you may ask, involves being the sorehead?
I have no idea. Neither does my husband.
But, every year a new person is nominated and their name is painted over last year’s honoree.
Mr. Riddle believes he can achieve this goal. He works hard at it.
There’s pride behind his grumpy disposition.

Yet, those dreams have been squelched upon finding out that the title of “sorehead” is not offered to folks living outside the village limits.

We live one mile from that line.

How does Mr. Riddle handle this small wrinkle in his plan? Honestly, I do not know his thoughts about it. I think he is internalizing the situation before he decides a course of action.

I can tell you that this hurdle may be the way to glory. For if there exists written legislation that mandates the “sorehead” title, I do believe Mr. Riddle might challenge it.
Support him, I will, of course. I’ll help him gather resources, wear a t-shirt that says, “My grumpy husband deserves your vote!”, or “I’m with grumpy.” I’m sure you folks could think of better.

And in the process of reaching for this dream he just might convince folks that he is worthy of their vote.

Who am I to say he doesn’t deserve such an honor?
Sometimes being a great father, husband, friend, neighbor, or hard worker isn’t enough. Sometimes you have to aim for something different. No matter how wacky, far-fetched, or odd his dream is, I’ll support him. He’d do the same for me.

Until next time,

3 Comments leave one →
  1. Dad permalink
    February 5, 2010 7:57 am

    Tell him to quit smiling so often,and i will vote for him also.

  2. February 4, 2010 6:00 pm

    He’d make a good sorehead. I’d vote for him

    • Victoria permalink*
      February 4, 2010 8:26 pm

      :) I’ll let him know! I knew we could count on you, Aunt Barb.

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