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Guest Column

Mea Maxima Culpa Me Darlin
By John J. Walsh
Jan 5, 2014 - 12:13:05 AM

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Mea Maxima Culpa1 Me Darlin!

Top of the mornin to ye lovely folk up there in Millinocket and surrounds. It's me again, Johnny Walsh, or Jack, as some are won't to call me.

I've not been writin for a goodly while, and I do apologize for that. It's been a terrible couple of months for me since I last put pen to paper for ye good folks.

If the Big 'O' 2 is upset at the loss he suffered t'other day, he should thank the good Lord he has at least, not suffered as I have of late.

Everythin went down hill fer me when I lost me wife in August. The pain and anguish I suffered was sometimes unbearable.

It was like this ye see. One day, the missus and I went shoppin at Walmart. It was a normal sorta day, and everythin was goin as it usually does when the missus drags me out shoppin.

Ye know the women folk, what they be like. They wander hither and yon lookin at this and that and takin their jolly time about it all. Not at all like us menfolk. We know what we want and jest walk in and buy it. But not the women folk.

And so it was that I was followin the missus round, pushin the trolley round, me mind off in faery land, when suddenly the missus stops dead in her tracks and screams at me in a terrifying unfamiliar pitch: 'Who be you and why are you following me around all over the place man? Are you some kind of sicko?"

Well I was shocked. It wasn't so much the words or the tone of voice that shocked me, but the fact that I was followin some dark skinned woman who was not me wife!

Saints preserve me, I didn't know what in God's good name had happened! Here I be followin the missus round like I usually do, and somehow found meself behind this monstrous queen of sheba demanding to know who I was and why I was followin her.

I did me best to explain that I thought I be followin the missus, but she wasn't havin any of it, so I 'girded up me loins' as the good book would say, and ran off to find the missus.

Well now I went hither and yon, up and down the aisles, once, twice, three times, and was mystified how it come to be that I had lost the other half of me life.

Now without a word of a lie uttered from these lips, I swear I searched for her for a good 10 minutes or so, before I finally decided that I should stand up near the front of the place and with luck on me side, spot her goodly self. But spot her I did not.

So pushing me trolley to one side, I decided to run outside to see if she was there. And so she was, sitting on a seat just glarin at me as I ran up to her.

'Are ye alright me luv?' I said in earnest.

The words had but barely escaped my lips when she stood up and shouted: 'Ye canna tell the difference between ye own wife and that Jamaican floosy, can ye now? And in what way do I meself resemble her? Is that all I am te ye now? Just a body to follow after?'

And with that said, she turned and walked straight to the car.

Well I tell ye now, no good ever comes of a man trying to apologize to a woman for the inexcusable - as all men know, but of course if ye do not try, then what a brow beatin waits in store.

I apologized all the way home and tried to explain meself, but 'twas of no use.

I suppose that was thinkin that I will surely pay dearly for the offence, but never did I imagine the price I paid.

We was no sooner in the door when she starts a packin. 'I'm going to visit me ma!' she says. 'And when I'm good and ready and not before, I'll be back!' And with that she went.

Well, I have to admit that I was relieved a little. A day or two to cool off wouldn't go astray, or so I thought. But the day or two turned into a week or two and then a month.

By the time that month was up I was surely going crazy with fear, and guilt and grief, and not for a long time have I prayed to the Blessed Virgin so much and so fervently, that she grant my boon and send me darlin home safe again.

But bein as she herself is a woman, I feel sure that she was delightin in me sufferins and did not too readily grant my prayers.

I tried every day to phone me beloved Mary, the wife, not the Blessed Virgin, but she never once answered the phone. And then one day she called. 'I'll be home tomorrow pet!' she says.

Well now I nearly broke down in tears. I thanked the Blessed Virgin and every saint in heaven for the answer to me prayers and eagerly awaited me Mary's return. And sure enough, at 11am the next day, she arrived home.

'Hello me darlin!' I greeted her.

'Don't give me no "hello me darlin" as if I'd merely popped out te see a friend!' she replied. 'Look at the state of this house. Have ye at all ever cleaned the blessed place, or at least given it a quick sweep?' she demanded to know.

Ah! The joy to have me life restored to normal, and have me darlin wife home safe and sound!.

May ye be in heaven a half an hour before the devil knows about it!

John (Jack) Walsh

1 "mea maxima culpa" - Latin for "my most [grievous] fault."

2 President Obama

Other Articles by Jack Walsh:

Jul 24, 2010 It's a Funny World We Live In

Jul 18, 2010 Scandal and Charity

Jul 14, 2010 Isn't Life Funny.

Apr, 24, 2010 Get off the Gay men's backs

April 21, 2010 We Love to Hate Our Presidents

April 8: Being An American

April 7:The Religion Called Politics

April 3: At the end of the journey

Mar 27: A Dear Abby Day


John J. Walsh, a Catholic, is originally from Ireland; went to high school and university in Australia, and later moved to the U.S.A. Fearing the hot blooded protestants and not wanting to reach heaven or hell faster than is God's plan, his personal email address and other particulars are not available for publication. You may however Email him at: johnjwalsh_magic @live.com


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