Why I Hate Flowers

Several weeks after I had proposed to my wife, we were sitting around with most of her family planning for the upcoming wedding. It was a pleasant evening. There was much food and laughter. The birds were chirping, the bees were buzzing. Squirrels were frolicking in the yard. It seemed to me to be a perfect evening. Little did I know that this evening was going to cause me grief for years to come.

As we were talking, Julie's mom brought in the Hornbeck family flag. She explained to me the symbolism of the figures on the flag. 

There were six different flowers positioned around the flag representing each of the Hornbeck children and their respective families. Each Hornbeck child had chosen a species of flower that they liked that would represent them throughout their life. Each flower was lovingly sewn and the craftsmanship spoke of the hours and hours it took to hand make each flower. When one of the Hornbeck children got married, a similar flower of the same species was sewn to represent the spouse. Around the flowers were butterflies that represented the children of each of the siblings. 

The flag also had many features from the area in which they had grown up. Mt. Hood, the Hood River, apple tree orchards, and other things associated with Hood River, Oregon were lovingly sewn onto the flag. I felt a warm glow knowing that I would soon have my own flower on the Hornbeck family flag.


As I was basking in the glow of happiness surrounded by my new family-to-be, Julie's dad looked at the flag and started laughing.


"Hey!" he said with his trademark huge grin and pointing to Julie's flower "Dave's going to be a pansy!"


Amid gales of laughter I looked at the flag in alarm. Sure enough, Julie's flower had the trademark deep purple, lavender, and gold colors of.....a pansy. I was going to be immortalized as a pansy. A 6'0 tall 300 lb. pansy, who could bench press a Buick.


I chuckled at the joke to let everyone know that I was a good sport. My thinking was that I would play along and soon everyone would forget about whole thing. Anyone who knows this family would now laugh at my naivety. Hornbecks don't forget stuff, and they especially don't forget funny stuff.


At the wedding reception, my stepchildren and all of their cousins dressed as pansies and sang "Little Purple Pansies Touched with Yellow Gold." For some reason, the audience thought that was funny. Heathens. When Julie's dad presented the family flag, he made sure to explain to the audience that I was being added to the flag and that my flower was the pansy.


My old scout master especially thought this was the funniest thing in the world. He would never pass up the opportunity to rib me. 


"Hey, Pansy!" he would holler across a crowded room -- making sure that everyone heard and knew who he was referring to.  To this day, I don't think he's called me Dave since then.

As the years went by, I assumed that the joke would lose steam. But alas, this was not to be.

At a family reunion and after winning at a game of horseshoes, I (rightly) was bragging to the other brothers-in-law about my physical prowess and athletic abilities. 

"At least we're not pansies" said one of the brother-in-laws.

 Game, set, match. BUT I CAN STILL BENCH PRESS A BUICK!