Putting on the Blitz


By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher

Our engagement photo 1994 when it all began.

It’s February porch sitters – the month of love – so I’ve decided to share some true love stories. Now, I’m not remotely saying that after nearly 29 years of marriage, I’ve got anything figured out when it comes to this whole love and marriage thing, but I will say it’s been an E-ticket ride along the way filled with both thrills and spills.

Case and point: I figured out early in our marriage Mr. Kaminski is oblivious to womanly wiles.  Either that or I have kept him so strung out dealing with me that he has no capacity to even navigate another woman.

I recall early in our marriage when he began managing therapy staffs in Houston. Somehow, his staffs were always 99% women – young women, cute young women. They would call and page incessantly – evenings, weekends – oh, the drama. They had crises of monumental proportions as young women do and required constant, brutal management. He was always accessible, always answered their calls, always to the rescue. He saw no ulterior motive, no inappropriate topics. He was sweet. He was cute. He was their manager always there to help and support. I could easily ascertain which ones were coming for him like a defensive blitz; he was blindsided. It was beyond annoying.

His secretary at the time was a mature woman, who I adored. She knew the score. She was on team Patti. She would tolerate these immature imps with the patience of a saint, all while protecting her beloved boss and letting me know me which ladies on the line were off sides.

My opportunity to take out the major offenders came soon enough. The company threw a Christmas bash. I’d had about enough of these insidious interruptions during “my” Mr. Kaminski time over non-related work issues. I didn’t care that their car didn’t start or their boyfriend was a jerk or their lazy husband didn’t have a job or could they schedule a lunch to talk. Call Triple A. Call a girlfriend. Call HR. Don’t call Mr. Kaminski.

The day of the Christmas party came around, and I was locked and loaded. I donned a stunning dress, did my hair high to the heavens, put on four-inch heels and a full length mink and was ready. Now other than Mr. Kaminski’s secretary, none of his team members had met me. They had no idea what was coming. Bless their heart.

To his credit, Mr. Kaminski was extremely complimentary of my effort and appearance. But of course, ignorance is bliss: He had no idea what was going down. Remember, as Tammy Wynette sang, “After all, he’s just a man.”

In hindsight, I think merely walking into the room would have handled the situation in perpetuity based on the looks I received. But I tend to be thorough. It’s my spiritual gift. I made a concerted effort to personally meet every single one of Mr. Kaminski’s team members and insert a personal comment to insure they realized that I knew exactly who – and what – they were. I wanted them to feel a special connection.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Sally. I’m so sorry about your boyfriend. Perhaps you should spend less time talking about him with my husband and focus on finding a new man.”

Interestingly enough Mr. Kaminski’s time away from the office suddenly became just that – time away. The phone calls – the interruptions – were fewer and far between. To this day, I’m not certain he realizes what went down that night, but some things in the myriad of matrimony are better left a mystery. See y’all next week – on the porch!


Patti Parish-Kaminski

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