and rich universe of human emotions.”
John leaned forward slightly. “Mab, do I understand you right? Are you saying that in romance books, romantic men don’t engage in intercourse?”
“On the contrary, John. In romance novels, romantic men engage in intercourse quite frequently. And enjoy it tremendously, too, I might add.”
Octavia felt certain Douglas Twitch’s resultant sharp snort registered on some Richter scale as he did his best to scoot his chair away from Mab in the tiny control room. Constance’s sigh dissembled into a reprobation.
John’s smile spread big enough to hurt. “Okay, Mab. I admit I’m stumped. If these romantic men engage in intercourse frequently and enjoy it tremendously and they don’t have penises, what do they use?”
“Why, their pulsing manhoods or hardened desire or—”
“Oh, you’re saying that it’s the word penis that isn’t used in connection with these romantic men?”
Mab’s mischievous eyes twinkled. “Exactly, John. I’m so glad you finally understand.”
John let out an amused chortle at being so intellectually reprimanded. “Well, I do and I don’t, Mab. Aren’t we just dealing with semantics here?”
“Yeah,” Douglas said. “You tell her, John. They’re the same thing.”
Mab shook her head. “No, they are not. Every act in life can be made ordinary or special, depending on how we approach it. The essential part of our approach involves the words we use. Words create the important messages that define our thoughts and feelings for everything.”
John arched a sliver of silver eyebrow. “Care to provide an example of what you mean, Mab?”
“Certainly, John. If I tell you I’m hungry and I’m going to grab something to eat, what image comes to mind?”
“You’re looking for something quick, whatever is handy.”
“Yes, quick and handy. Not very exciting words, are they? But, if, on the other hand, I asked you to dine with me this evening, what images would then come to your mind?”
“Well, I suppose a white tablecloth, candlelight, something special to eat, probably carefully selected.”
“Precisely, John—a beautifully set table offering something carefully selected. Words have lifted the ordinary act of eating into the stimulation of feelings that go beyond the mere satiation of hunger. In place of quick we now have special. In place of handy we now have carefully selected. The act of eating has been transcended into an act of caring and sharing appealing to all the senses. That’s why romantic men never have sex. They make love.”
Douglas squirmed in his chair, his big bony knee slamming into the edge of the control desk in the tiny room. “What in the hell does eating have to do with sex?”
Mab let out a little puff of impatience. “Words, Douglas, images of emotion—where true sensuality and romance come from. Sex is quick and handy. Insignificant. Making love is special and carefully selected. Important. The words we use so clearly create the emotion we anticipate and receive from the act.”
Constance nodded. “Oh, I see. You’re saying that the right words stimulate feelings that go beyond a mere sexual gratification?”
“Exactly, Constance. It’s the stimulation of those other feelings that makes us romantic, transforms an act of physical need into one of emotional fulfillment, and brings out the truly human part of ourselves. The feelings that lead up to and result from doing it are what make the sexual act, or any act, worthwhile.”
Douglas rubbed his stiff, grayish beard in apparent irritation. “Yeah, well I still don’t see what that has to do with using hardened desire in place of penis.”
Mab let out the frustrated sigh of a teacher trying to get through to her backward pupil.
“Douglas, when you describe a man using his penis in sexual intercourse, you’re talking biology, and clinical images come to mind. But when a man joins a woman to him with his hardened desire within the pages of a romance novel, he’s mated with her on an emotional plane, as well. It’s that emotional joining that causes the act to transcend the mere elimination of hunger and makes it become a feast at life’s most tasty and tantalizing banquet.”
Octavia smiled, thoroughly delighted with Mab’s triumphant crossing of her finish line. Her grandmother pointed meaningfully to the two incoming lines lit up on her console and announced that it was time for the panel to take calls from their listeners.
As the seniors chatted with the first caller, Octavia leaned back and let her mind wander. It had been years since she’d last been here. Yet in a way, it felt just like yesterday.
Some of her fondest memories with her grandmother were garnered in this tiny control room. Every day after school, she’d stop by. Hour after hour, she’d sit and watch and listen as Mab’s fingers reached out to connect with the switches on the control board and her voice reached out to connect with her listeners—sometimes offering them an interesting new thought about the world, sometimes just an irreverent spate of her own special brand of humor, but always with an honest compassion that came from her heart.
Octavia smiled as she looked up to see the colorful tinsel and the many, many Christmas cards from Mab’s devoted listeners taped across the top of the room’s walls.
Christmas time had always been the best time to sit in on Mab’s broadcasts. It was during the holiday season that Octavia and Mab had laughed the most in this room. And probably cried the most, too. Octavia knew she was who she was today because of what she had learned about life from her grandmother, right here.
And, after witnessing this morning’s program, Octavia was delighted to find Mab still as fun and fresh and feisty as ever.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I see our time is up,” Mab was saying. “I’d like to thank my guests from the executive committee of the Silver Power League for being with us this morning. Constance Kope, Douglas Twitch and Dr. John Winslow.
“Coming up now is some beautiful Christmas music to keep you company. I’ll return at two with our community’s news. Until then, this is Mab Osborne and KRIS, Bremerton’s senior citizens’ radio, reminding you to keep calling and writing the chamber of commerce and the Department of Community Development. Your action is needed to save our community center. Bye for now.”
Mab flipped the switch on the main control board to cut in the prerecorded Christmas music.
Octavia sat forward in concern at Mab’s final message to her listeners. This was the first she had heard that the community center was in jeopardy. Was that the reason for Mab’s call and urgent request for Octavia to come by this morning?
Mab seemed to read the concern in Octavia’s eyes. She shook her head at her granddaughter. Octavia understood that was Mab’s way of saying that any questions Octavia had would have to wait.
Octavia rose and reached for Constance’s hand as she started the rounds of giving each of the seniors a warm handshake and smile. “It was a stimulating show. Thanks for letting me sit in.”
As Constance rose to her feet to take Octavia’s hand, she gave
