Recently my friend, Cheryl, a feng-shui superstah, gave me some pertinent advice on how to jump-start my dormant romantic life.
"Remove your father's Nazi sword from your underwear drawer," she advised.
Good advice for anyone, I would think.
It really is a Nazi sword that my father brought back from his service duty during World War II. How my father got this sword is nebulous, as he fought in the Pacific Theater, not in Europe. I know he must have told me the history of the sword, but....and this is embarrassing to admit....whenever he started to talk about The War, my mind automatically went elsewhere....you know, important stuff like shoes, or what happened last week on "Dallas."
Now that I am old enough to appreciate, and be proud of, Dad's wartime accomplishments, it is too late for me to learn about the sword. Dad had been gone many years now, so the mystery of the sword will go unanswered. Luckily for me, I have a gift for lying out my butt, so this is the story I tell people:
"My father single-handedly kicked Hitler's ass, " I tell them. "Here's the proof."
That's right. That's my made up story and I am sticking to it.
Anyhoo, I have been traveling around with this sword for decades now, holding on to it as a piece of my father's history. The tricky thing about having Nazi paraphernalia is...well, where to you put it in your house?
It is, after all, a link to a horrific time of darkness. Plus I have some sticky-fingered relatives who have been eyeing that baby for years. Far be it for me to name names, but you know who you are.
So what do you do with a piece of history that you don't want to put on display? Why, let it find a home in your lingerie drawer, of course. For years, it has been content to snuggle up between silk teddies and delicate unmentionables. This coincides with the time my love life seemed to dry up like a used lemon slice and I started sleeping....alone.....in old tee-shirts.
Coinky-dinky? Or something more? Hmmmm......
Just recently, in the spirit of feng-shui, I have removed the sword from the lingerie drawer and given it to my sister for safe keeping. She and her husband have been married for 33 years; I'm guessing that they are not exactly humping like rabbits anyway.
So now that Hitler is out of my underwear, I am just sittin' back, waiting for the phone to ring. But, being a grey-haired goddess and all, just don't call past 9 pm, okay?