Forty-one years ago next month, the Colonel took his first love -- the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda on their first date.
It was the last first date they ever had, with anyone.
Five years later, thirty-six years ago today, the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda completed the Colonel's life.
The Colonel, as anyone who has known him for longer than a week will readily attest, has not one gram of empathy and very little sympathy in his entire being. But, there is a teeny, tiny part of him that feels profound sorrow for one thing and all men.
The Colonel is sorry that he has the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda and the rest of you never had a chance.
Tears brought to a glass eye sorrow.
Guilt-ridden, gut-wrenching, favorite ball cap-lost sorrow.
Never been sorry for a lost hat? Now the Colonel is really sorry for you.
Okay, not sorrow -- disdain. The Colonel digresses.
The comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda has been the Colonel's rock since long before he even realized he needed a rock.
For reasons beyond fathoming, particularly by the loose collection of cognitive cells thinly covering the bottom of the brain pan in his cavernous cranium, the Colonel has been the frighteningly fortunate recipient of the faithful and caring love of the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda, despite his well-documented failures, faults, and foibles.
The Colonel gives thanks to a Gracious God for sending Jesus to save his eternal soul.
He thanks a Miracle-working God for sending Miss Brenda to love him here on Earth.