Francis here. It seems I have made a terrible boo-boo. I must make amends.

I herein repent forever of my being a Steak Bully. I had never been called such before, and it does hurt to come to the realization that it was indeed true. I have repeatedly shamed the Great and Noble Robert for his steak preferences on nearly every occasion we have eaten it together over many, many years now. Thanks to his well-worded (and on my part well-deserved) rebuke, I have looked into the dark mirror and seen a dastardly reflection looking back at me. I wish to purge my soul of such nastiness forever. I have seen the white-hot light of truth and been transformed. “Slap and be healed!” as Robert himself would say.

I shall never more steak shame . . .

I shall support Robert, both implicitly and explicitly, in his preferred methods of steak preparation and consumption and celebrate them both to everyone, far and near . . .

I shall be the rock-solid wingman regarding steak that I should have been all along.

Mea culpa . . . mea culpa . . . mea maxima culpa . . .

And in the words of Pontius Pilate (the Monty Python version that is) “to pwove our fwiendship” I take the following concrete step: when next we gather, I request we go to a steakhouse of Robert’s choosing, where I will not only buy him the best steak on the menu (of his own choice of course) but I will also eat my own steak in exactly the same manner as he does. No sauce whatsoever, cooked as he prefers. Just like in the lesson from Green Eggs and Ham, I am confident I will like it after all.

Repentance requires actions, folks, not merely words.

And to go universal on all this (cause that’s what we Snakes and Otters guys are all about), admitting one’s mistakes, working to repent going forward and making things right as much as possible is something we are all called to do. Keeping our relationships whole and bountiful, especially those we cherish as much as life itself just like with mine and Robert’s, is worth absolutely every effort we can make. Relationships are what we as human beings are all about.

And to go a little bit maudlin on this, I offer the great John Denver himself, from the Windsong album in 1975, which I got to see him perform live in April of that following year. My very first concert experience ever, at the ripe old age of ten . . .

Robert – truly sorry man. Written from the heart.