|How’s that for a subject line?The guilt’s overwhelming, so I guess I’m jumping to share with my world.Some of you know how I feel about Honeycrisp Apples? It’s deep.|
A few years back, I was giving a talk in Minneapolis to the Indian Health Services.After the questions subsided, a confident, handsome woman approached me and said,”I read your newsletters. Honeycrisp are fine. Have you ever tried Sweetango?”Of course I was thrilled. After all these years, to finally meet the person who reads the newsletter? I knew it would happen one day. I felt complete.I also felt dirty.
Honestly, who has the nerve to drive a wedge in the middle of my relationship?A fortress of a relationship built on (1) reliability, (2) seasonality, and to be blunt, (3) lust.I shake my head and forget about it as soon as it happened.
Until Monday of this week.
I had a tailwind into our cardiology office giving me a solid 25 minutes before my 7:45 am patient.Plenty of time.I headed out to walk through a mist, up a half mile concrete sidewalk along a busy 4 lane street, Polaris Parkway. Turning left, I would soon find myself in a bustling produce section of the Meijer store in Westerville, OH.
I know it’s not an excuse, but the few Honeycrisps left in the garage fridge at home?They just weren’t the same as last month.One had spots, one was soft, and the other had clearly fallen and was bruised.Yet, I just kept it going, letting them sit there. Hoping they would improve.Deep down, I knew it would never happen.To my regret, that’s exactly what I was thinking Monday morning as I was staring at those bags of Sweetangos.So happy and shiny red sitting there on that island of fake green paper grass.It makes my stomach turn as I look back.
No one will know, I thought.I have a mini-fridge in the cardiology office.They can just sleep there.Won’t stain my shirt. Odorless, crisp, clean.Safe.I’ll think of Honeycrisp the whole time.Simple.
And now, here I find myself.10 innocent, spectacular Sweetangos still in my rearview mirror and a lifetime of guilt in front of me.I won’t get into the specifics, and I can’t.It’s too raw.
Why’d I share this?I don’t know!Guilt is some messed up stuff.There’s 8,000 doctors on this list, one of you has to be a psychiatrist.Call me.
A cheap shot to promote our Walk Challenge on Kilimanjaro?Nah. I’d never do that.