What About Harry (10)My Life in the Witness Protection Program
What About Harry (10)
Let me tell you about my Harry.
He’s not much to look at, if you want to go by Hollywood’s standards, and lets face it – everybody I knew in New York wanted to look better than they did. Its as if the whole world has gone crazy, getting boob jobs here and tummy tucks there. Lips plumped up to look like licorice sticks, eye lifts that make you look like you’re constantly surprised, its outta control.
When does it stop?
Now, I’m all for dying my hair and getting my face waxed – Harry should be the only one in the family with the mustache, know what I mean? And I have to admit, I’m liking the extra help the department gave me when they redesigned how we looked. But I wouldn’t have paid for it. I put on some extra pounds over the years, so I’m glad that I’m able to work out a the club. There’s only so much you can do with what God gave you, anyway.
Yeah, I believe in God. We both do. I think that’s why we have such a hard time wrapping our head around the Normans and their take on the Almighty. To each his own, I always say. As long as they don’t throw a bag over our heads and drag us to temple, I guess we’ll be okay.
We’re supposed to pretend we’re one of them anyways, so its been interesting. I’m not too keen on the portion of the service known as Priesthood and Relief Society. This is when the men (priesthood) and women (relief) separate and worship in different rooms. Are you friggin kidding me? Separate the men and the women? I thought Susan B. Tony took care of that. And how come the women get to go to what is known as the Relief Society? What, is somebody taking over the cooking that day?
I don’t get it.
Anyway, Harry gave me a look when it was announced we go our separate ways. It was a combination Holy !*&!@, what the hell do we do now?, and Take it easy on them, honey kinda look. I don’t if he was afraid for me, or for the other women I was going to be around. I just gave him a big smile, kinda like the ones a lot of the men were giving me. All teeth.
But I was telling you about my Harry.
He’s a pretty easy going guy, a live and let live man. He’s loud, and always seems like he’s yelling, even when he’s just talking about something as innocent as the weather. Sometimes I wondered if he had a hearing problem, cos one of the few things we were able to take with us was my Infant of Prague statue. Every Catholic family had one, it supposed to protect you on your journeys. It’s supposed to be baby Jesus with the big hat like the Pope has, and he’s holding up his hand as if to make the sign of the cross.
But Harry kept looking around, saying “I don’t see it? What the hell are you talking about.?”
I looked at him, since he was standing right in front of the fricking statue. Then he laughed, a little sheepish. ”Oh! I thought you said the Infinite Frog. I was looking for a big toad.!” We had a good laugh about that one.
But that ain’t it. I think Harry just likes to be heard, for people to know where he stands.
Nothing ruffles his feathers, much. Well, except for one thing.
Harry hates when things don’t add up, or go by the rules. He always roots for the underdog, and sometimes cries at movies.
Kind of a contradiction in terms, I know, considering the kind of life we were living before we landed here in Idaho Falls.
But know one thing. People think that only murderers and con men get sent in the witness protection program. Not true.
Oh, we got involved in some things that may not be exactly on the up and up, but we never killed anyone, and never would be around anyone that did. My Harry has a heart of gold and wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Unless the fly was hurting me.
Harry looks pretty imposing, even though he’s just under 5’7″. Its something about the eyes, I think. They are icy blue, and don’t back down when you look into them. Now that he’s got the beard they made him grow, he kinda looks like a cross between a grizzly bear and a teddy. It all depends on what kind of mood he’s in that day, I guess, as to which bear comes out..
We just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and he had his grizzly look going.