Topic: Forgive and Forget?

Courtney’s Thoughts

Forgive and forget? Not me. I hold a grudge. For. Ever. I let nothing go. Is it healthy? No. Is it a boundary? Absolutely. And, according to my therapist, “Boundaries without clarity are not boundaries at all,” so who is winning now? 

I learned a long time ago, but not soon enough, that you get one chance with me. Just one. And then you’re on my list. So, when Barry posed the question, “If you could punch just one person, square in the face, with zero repercussions, who would it be?” I immediately began sorting through my mental journals of all who had done me wrong. Afraid of a virtual assault charge, Barry ultimately softened the question to “If you could put anyone in a dunking booth and Hall of Fame pitcher Randy Johnson was taking aim, who would be in the hot seat? 

I had to clarify. 

“Who? As in just one person?” Impossible. Because, as with all things in my life, I have a list for this. 

Mr. R., my high school mechanical drawing teacher – who, after learning I quit the field hockey team my senior year, yelled down the hallway, “Hey Hampson, quitters never win and winners never quit.” To him, I say, “Screw you buddy, and your four years of sexist comments and put-downs.” Take the shot, Randy. 

And while I am at it, I may as well throw my field hockey coach in there, too. She could use a good reminder of what it means to be a coach. 

How about the dude I dated who revealed after we landed in the Miami airport that he put an illegal substance in my bag? (As you already know, I have never inhaled, so I was justly appalled but never detained.)

Or the other loser who got another woman pregnant (his coworker, nonetheless) despite being in what I (and the state of New Jersey) thought was a committed relationship. 

The colleague who told me I was “walking like I just had a baby” when I returned to work following an ectopic pregnancy ranks up there pretty high on the Randy Johnson hit list.  

Certainly, what’s-her-name from seventh grade could use a swift fastball to the face, I mean the dunking booth target. She was the ringleader of all bullies, the epitome of a mean girl. She made me cry. And there is nothing I hate more than showing my emotions. 

The “finance bro” in his stupid khakis and his stupid vest who, after 17 years of employment (plus blood, sweat, soul, and tears) told me there was no severance package. Randy, hit him with your best shot. And then do it again for good measure.

Despite the many volumes of all who’ve done me wrong, on the flip side, there are plenty who have done me right. Allow me, if you will, to pay a brief tribute to one. Mary Vaux, a Bluffton icon, passed away in late March. She was the first person who, nearly two decades ago, made me feel at home in Bluffton. 

Mary welcomed me into her family and her home (literally giving me the keys to her house). It was in her backyard that I got my first real taste of what the May River gives to the Town of Bluffton. She trusted me to be the wedding coordinator for her daughter Emily’s nuptials (and later, Mary Gwynn’s wedding too). Mary was the first local who didn’t treat me like a Yankee. She introduced me to her friends, taught me the finer points of Southern hospitality, and how to master the art of considering every detail. My fondness for Mary and all I learned from her is forever woven into the fabric of my life. 

Maya Angelou said, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” I will never forget how Mary made me feel. The others are just names on a list.  

Hey valued reader…yeah you, the one holding the magazine. Do you have a topic you would like Barry and Courtney to debate? we would love to hear it! Send any suggestions to Maggie Washo at: maggiewasho@ch2cb2magazine

Barry’s Thoughts

First of all, had I known that Courtney had such horrifying anger management issues, I never would have agreed to debating her in a column. Clearly, I am just one flippant remark away from being mowed down in a hailstorm of baseballs. Thankfully, this column stopped being about us debating one another years ago. 

Second of all, I might have really shot myself in the foot on this one. Because, yes, this was my idea. I am the one that inadvertently lit the fuse on Courtney’s long-simmering resentment towards her exes, her former teachers, and random passersby whose one errant comment have earned them a lifetime of scorn. 

And yet, having read her side first before writing this, I can’t really follow her. I don’t really have any specific resentments against any particular individuals, at least none that I’d air in public. There are a few select politicians I could be talked into setting up on the dunk tank, but reading the room it seems like there are two groups of people: those who would agree with me and those who would set my house on fire for daring to speak against someone on their side of the aisle.

So, what I’m going to do is widen the platform on the dunk tank and invite a few of my least favorite kinds of people to come on up and take their chances with the Big Unit. (Oh right, I should probably explain for the non-sports fans that Randy Johnson’s nickname was the Big Unit because of his extraordinary height and the relative immaturity of sportswriters.)  

First up on the block, people who shout out answers on trivia night. I have been running live trivia for more than 10 years now and, without fail, at least once a month some jackwagon will decide that everyone in the bar needs to hear what the answer is the second the question leaves my mouth. I don’t know what lingering insecurities drive them to this kind of bravado, but I assure you people that no one in the bar is thinking that you’re the smartest person here. They’re thinking that you have the impulse control of a toddler after a dozen Pixy Stix. 

Next up, every other motorist on the road. I don’t drive much, seeing as I work from home and I can walk to the bar, but it seems like every time I buckle up, I am witness to the catastrophic failure of our driver’s ed industry. Folks, I don’t have the space to explain all the rules of the road to you, but look up how four-way stops work. And traffic circles. And double yellow lines. And what a turn signal is for. And when you’re done, lobby your representatives to bar Georgia drivers from crossing state lanes.

Finally, classic rock band the Eagles. No particular reason, I just don’t particularly care for their music – and these things always work better when I can come up with three examples. 

Yeah, by setting the topic and then immediately swerving, I am once again playing chess instead of checkers in this column. But, if you guys insist that I single out one person to receive a trip in the dunk tank, I’ll acquiesce. I pick Randy Johnson. 

Checkmate, Big Unit.