Love is a Four-Letter Word

" 'Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all...' "

What in the hell was Tennyson thinking when he penned that?

Despite what the greeting card companies tell you, it's not all flowers and overindulgence in chocolates for everyone on Valentine's Day. Those who find themselves left behind by love have plenty of sympathy, since their dilemma is nothing new. Elvis sang for the despondent in "Heartbreak Hotel;" Roy Orbison touched a chord in all who have "loved and lost" when he performed "Only the Lonely;" Frank Sinatra crooned "In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning"...a testament to all who ever lost a night's sleep trying to untangle the confusion caused by love.

Despite the drawbacks, few could argue that on February 14th that "Love" is America's drug of choice...an uncontrolled substance in any amount, on which we all feed and crave. It's that one emotion that defies definition that has spawned countless songs, poems and romance novels...not to mention its fair share of trips to marriage counselor offices.

That little unassuming four-letter word has caused so much trouble (like many other four-lettered words.) People live for it, die for it...some have killed because of it. It's an emotion that can convert even the most hardened cynic. But the clichés of love all ring true. It only takes one stolen glance from across a crowded room to lead one into unchartered romantic territories. And although the trip is often dangerous, still we willingly and eagerly sign up for the journey, hopeful of the destination.

You can't define love, only what it brings about in your life. It's moments together like dining in an Italian restaurant so small that you practically end up eating off the plate of your fellow diner at the table next to your. It's countless spring mornings, snuggling on the couch on a rainy day, making someone their tea, and sharing the Sunday paper (but not before removing the Sports section because you know that she prefers it that way.) It's sharing an intimate meal at one's place, knowing that the best part of the evening will be having her foot in your lap for a massage before it's time for dessert and after the wine is low in your glasses...

Love is remembering those little things that make a relationship special. And for those who find themselves on the "outside" looking "in" on Valentine's Day, it's those memories that all-too-often outlast a relationship long after love leaves. It's those things that we can sometimes never forget.

I meant for this to be an objective column for those who, like me, might not be thrilled with the prospect of observing another Valentine's Day. Instead, it's turned into an open love letter to someone I once loved and lost. But she was many years ago and last I'd heard, she's married with children. Funny that we once shared such intimate moments together and now it's like it was just a dream that never happened.

But remembering what love once was – or hoping for what it might someday once be again – can make you do crazy things like write about these kinds of memories that now only mean one thing to one person (when they once meant something to two people.) The heart and mind don't always work together well when making decisions. But then that's what love's all about. It's irrational and wonderful. Sometimes it goes your way and sometimes not. But it always makes life brighter when it makes one of its unexpected appearances from time to time and turns your life upside down. I'm still hopeful for that.

It just takes opening your heart. Some have and wish they never did. Some haven't and wish they could.

 

Love is a four-letter word. And like some four-letter words it can be nasty, or beautiful.

Perhaps Tennyson was right after all.

 
(C) Martin Walsh 2015

“What DO the holidays mean to YOU?”

By Martin Walsh

The title of this piece is “What DO the holidays mean to YOU?” and I found myself thinking about this very same question after an encounter I had with a fellow tenant on the elevator in my apartment building. He was probably in his later 50s, healthy looking, and came across as pleasant and personable.

Being one who is frequently quiet and shy, I tried to fill the uncomfortable silence for the ride 12 floors down to the lobby with small talk. The approaching holidays only seemed like a natural topic.

“Ready for the holidays?” I asked.

Now, I had seen this man in passing in the halls of my floor for I don’t know how many years and, aside from the occasional impersonal “How are you?” that people naturally find themselves exchanging, I hadn’t had a real conversation with him of any real value.

“I don’t have any family here,” he said. “The holidays don’t mean that much to me. I guess I could visit my sister in Hawaii.”

Opposite of his usual upbeat demeanor, he had his head lowered as he said these things and I could swear he wore a sad, almost wistful expression. “Well,” I said, trying to change the conversation, “We’re almost having Hawaii-like weather here now.”

It was maybe a 20-second ride down on the elevator but that short trip left a lasting impression upon me and got me thinking about the holidays and what they mean to me now, and what they used to mean to me a long time ago.

Now the holidays seem to be a time of great anxiety, and I know that I’m not alone in that feeling. In some cases, there’s the extended visits with relatives we don’t see much (do we really just avoid?) during the year and the hours we have to endure – painfully, in some cases. At Thanksgiving, we inevitably eat too much, drink too much, not always taking the time to stop and think about all we have…all those things for which we should be grateful.

Christmas can be worse. Did we get what we wanted? Did I buy the kids the right things? Will I be hosting the Christmas dinner AND the Thanksgiving dinner?

For me, Christmas seems like all prep and little lasting pleasure – like a big to-do list. The pleasure is when it’s BEHIND me…that week between Christmas and New Year’s where it’s like “one down, one to go.” It’s hard to remember those times as a kid when Christmas just seemed to materialize…the milk and cookies for Santa (I ate them all myself this year)…the getting to bed early (I never got the hang of that!)…and getting up early to see what presents appeared magically overnight.

For others, who don’t have a family or friends, the holidays can be a crushing time on the spirit. But the commercials never show THAT side. They only reinforce what yours SHOULD be like…impossibly perfect.

Perfect for me as a child was train displays any bubble lights on the tree…and having two sets of Christmases because my parents divorced when I was very young. It was a small consolation for coming from a single-parent household.

I try to reach back into the past to pick over those memories like a still-warm Thanksgiving platter for leftovers by which I can bring meaning and happiness to the present holidays. I’m overly sentimental and a sucker for traditions and will watch “A Christmas Story” – itself an over glorified Christmas representation – until my family threatens to kick me out on Christmas Day. I would insist on watching it so much that inevitably they bought me the DVD.

I still make them watch it anyway. And they still complain.

The holidays can never live up to perfection in our minds. Last year, or maybe it was the year before, I posted online that, regarding the spirit of the holidays, I “just wasn’t feeling it.” And I remember being surprised by the number of people who weighed in, expressing the same feeling.

I think it’s because our lives change – both where we are in life and who is in our lives. There’s really two phases of the holidays – childhood and adulthood. And there’s no comparing the perspective of the two.

When we’re young, life is stretched out before us. And we have no idea what to expect. Like anything in life, the first time experiencing a thing, whether it’s the holidays, or love or heartbreak, seems more significant. After that, it’s never new again. We experience life through the wonder and innocence of a child’s eyes only once in life, and some childhoods are tainted by a divorce, or the death of a parent. Just like the holidays, no childhood is perfect. But we get by.

In adult hood, we gather around us friends and loved ones to recreate those special memories we cling to (or create in our minds). But with the passing years we lose that innocence, that ability to believe, to wonder, to just experience life unquestionably. It’s something once gone you can never get back and even if you could it would never be the same. And at that moment when you grow up, although you may be too young still to fully understand, you know that something has changed forever in how you will see the world.

And so we fill that void with buying sprees, or too much food, or too much booze…looking for some way to compensate for those things we’ve lost.

Christmas should be a magical, special something we can cherish into adulthood, even as we grow.

I’m still searching for that meaning myself.

 

(C) Martin Walsh 2014