Bless Their Hearts
by Richard Newman
At Steak â€˜n Shake I learned that if you add
â€œBless their heartsâ€ after their names, you can say
whatever you want about them and itâ€™s OK.
My son, bless his heart, is an idiot,
she said. He rents storage space for his kidsâ€™
toysâ€”theyâ€™re only one and three years old!
I said, my father, bless his heart, has turned
into a sentimental old fool. He gets
weepy when he hears my daughterâ€™s greeting
on our voice mail. Before our Steakburgers came
someone else blessed her office mateâ€™s heart,
then, as an afterthought, the jealous hearts
of the entire anthropology department.
We bestowed blessings on many a heart
that day. I even blessed my ex-wifeâ€™s heart.
Our waiter, bless his heart, would not be getting
much tip, for which, no doubt, heâ€™d bless our hearts.
In a week it would be Thanksgiving,
and we would each sit with our respective
families, counting our blessings and blessing
the hearts of family members as only family
does best. Oh, bless us all, yes, bless us, please
bless us and bless our crummy little hearts.