EDITOR’S NOTEBOOK: The gift that keeps on giving … at my expense

By Kyle Moylan, Sports Editor
   Just to set the record straight, it was a jewelry shop located inside a meat market.
   OK, maybe some people wouldn’t call it a shop. But there were glass display cases, partitions and a cash register. The ankle bracelets were not displayed on the legs of lamb.
   Hey, what do you know? That’s a line my family members actually missed.
   I didn’t make the distinction about the jewelry shop inside of Wilson’s Meat Market either clear or fast enough several years ago.
   Big mistake.
   For Christmas, I bought my then-wife Grace a chain and a locket at that shop (No, that isn’t why we’re divorced, wise guys). I even put little pictures of all of our pets inside the locket. I thought it was a great gift, so I showed it to my brother and sister.
   ”Where did you get it?”
   Think before you talk, Kyle. Think before you talk.
   ”Wilson’s Meat Market.”
   What happened to thinking before you talked?
   Once the “Yeeeeeeeehhhhaaaaa!” came out of Howard Dean’s mouth, there was no way to put it back. The same was true with “Wilson’s Meat Market.”
   ”Did you find the locket inside of a hamburger?”
   ”It was a stand inside …”
   ”The deli department. Do they slice the jewelry for you while you wait?”
   Years, my friends. Years. I’m probably rekindling some old memories and getting my family members to think up some new punch lines, but that’s OK. There’s something even kind of funny about giving your wife “jewelry covered in A-1 Steak Sauce” once you’re divorced.
   But there was a long time there when I couldn’t go to the supermarket — or at least tell someone I was.
   ”Kyle, can you get me a gallon of milk, a loaf of bread, a dozen eggs and a pound of rings.”
   If anyone in my family ever saw a butcher unloading steaks, chops and burgers into a display case, it was “Is that your jeweler?”
   I couldn’t even go out to dinner. Because once the meals were placed on the table it was, “Don’t look, Grace, or else you won’t be surprised on Christmas.”
   Once again, it was a jewelry shop inside of a meat market.
   ”Hey, Kyle, my friend is getting married and wants to know if the engagement rings are in the aisle by the hot dogs or the chicken.”
   Come on, I actually thought that one through. I let Grace pick out her own ring. Yeah, that ruined some of the romance, but I proposed in bed with a broken ankle. About the 10th time I asked for something to eat, drink or the remote, “please” didn’t seem to cut it anymore.
   ”Grace, can I have a Diet Mountain Dew … please … sweetie … honey … Will you marry me?”
   Smooth, baby. Smooth. Hey, I’m a sports writer who buys jewelry at a meat market. What did you expect?
   Getting down on one knee would have been sweet, but I was only about 90 percent sure of the answer. That still leaves a lot of engagement rings without a finger to wear them. What do you do when the girl says “no!”
   You have to sell them cheap.
   Hey, that’s how come Wilson’s Meat Market is able to sell jewelry by the pound.
   You see, I can appreciate the humor in the situation. About the only thing I don’t quite understand now is how I actually asked a friend at work the other day why people give gift certificates as Christmas gifts. “They’re so impersonal,” I argued.
   ”Nothing says ‘I love you’ like cutting your wife steaks and diamonds with your own hands. She even gets to keep the knife.”
   It was a jewelry shop located inside a meat market. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Kyle Moylan is sports editor of The Messenger-Press.