What’s Love Got To Do With It
Some other ways to look at love on Valentine’s Day
When my son, Zachary, was little bitty, he scrambled words up in his head and what came out of his mouth was often pretty funny. He loved to sing and his singalongs were a hoot.
The Bee Gees, “More Than A Woman” became “bald-headed woman” as Zach sang it out, and Tina Turner’s “What’s Love Got To Do With It” became “squats love . . .”
Here we are, hustling through Valentine’s Day once again, and Zach has inspired me to ask, “Squats love got to do with it?”
I mean, really, we’ve gotten love so compartmentalized and commercialized in our thinking. Is it any wonder we get it wrong so much of the time? We buy cards and candy, we make dinner reservations, we have a hot night of sex, but do we really honor the depth and breadth of what love is?
Romantic love is great. That first blush of flirting with your crush. The rush of a first kiss. Giving yourself, body and soul, to a lover. That’s juicy stuff. It’s the genesis that sparks inspiration and creativity. Romantic love has been the catalyst for the writing of great literature. It has also started wars.
With V-Day looming, I got curious about the definition of love. Here are the two ways in which my dictionary defines love: 1) An intense feeling of deep affection. 2) A great interest and pleasure in something.
Now that I’m enlightened about a non-V-Day definition, I want to tell you about some of the things I love.
1) It seems only right that I should start with my husband, my marriage. (It’s V-Day after all.) I love that we’ve been committed to one another for 38 years. We love one another. Sometimes we hate one another. We delight in, or tolerate one another on any given day. But we’re committed to our love and our partnership. I love our love.
2) When a song that I’m singing makes my voice crack and causes me to get a lump in my throat and tear up. I love that. It happened just today. I heard the song, “Universal Soldier” by Buffy Saint Marie and I sang along a little — until I couldn’t because I was overcome with emotion. I used to know every word of that song. Hearing it took me back to a time when we were protesting the Vietnam war. It took me to a time when democracy meant something and the emotional tapestry of loving your country had great depth to it.
3) I love to feel warm. Not just a little warm, but warmed to the bone. This is why I adore a good hot shower. Even in the middle of August when the Southern California air is hot as it enters your lungs. Even when we are rushing from place to place to luxuriate in a little A/C. Even then, I love a hot shower. There’s something about that hot water spraying down on my body that takes me away from any bit of anxiousness, pulls me away from apathy, kicks me out of depression. No need for SSRIs when you’ve got a hot shower.
4) I love Gilmore Girls. OK, this one is a little esoteric perhaps. Only those who have watched this series will understand the depth of pleasure one can achieve by vicariously living in Stars Hallow, hoping beyond hope that Luke and Loralei will finally become a forever item.
I fully admit that I’m lagging. The show aired beginning in 2000. I only discovered it two months ago, and I just learned that it has been named one of the 100 greatest television shows of all time. Who knew???
5) My mountain bike. I love my mountain bike. How does one fall in love with an inanimate object?
My bike is almost twenty years old. It’s a Cannondale Scalpel, the exact bike that Tinker Juarez rode in the many cross-country races he won as a pro mountain biker. I always felt like a badass studly woman riding that bike. Truth be told, I was never a badass studly mountain biker. I’ve always been more of a take it slowly and enjoy the ride kind of cyclist.
I love my bike because for twenty years it has taken me on trails where I’ve gotten up close and personal with coyotes, rattle snakes, road runners, magnificent screeching hawks, and even scary mountain lions. It has taken me on mountain bike vacations with my husband where we slept in tents and rode the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, and from Bryce to Zion National Park.
I’ve challenged myself on this bike. I’ve broken bones. I’ve overcome fears. I’ve celebrated my independence. I love what I am when I’m on my bike. I love life when I’m on my bike.
6) I love my relationship with my daughter.
I’ll be the first to admit that we had a rocky start. Sometimes there is no good reason we can unearth that sets the emotional parameters of a relationship. Sometimes it’s just hard. Hard to relate. Hard to feel empathy. Hard to find common ground. Hard to make it work. This was our relationship for most of my adult life and almost all of hers.
I always longed for the kind of bond other women seemed to have with their daughters. I wanted the ease with which they moved through life. I wanted that closeness, that trust. We just didn’t have it and I, as the mother, didn’t have the skill to cultivate that bond. So, we struggled — for years we struggled. But about a year ago all the difficulty seemed to evaporate. Just like magic, it was gone.
It’s good now. We’ve moved into a space where we love and appreciate one another. We’re finding that bond together and I simply love it.
7) Grandchildren. I love grandchildren. Not just mine, but all my friend’s grandchildren too. And, as I reflect on it, I guess what I really love is grandmothering.
When you’re a mom, there is a pressure to walk a narrow line of parenting. You have to guide your kids, keep them out of trouble, do the right things, say the right things, help them feel successful. It’s daunting. It’s exhausting.
Grandmothering is different. There is a freedom in grandmothering. A freedom to just delight in this child you are privileged to have in your life. There is a delight in watching your child parent their own child. There is a validation that you’ve raised good children who are raising good children.
Grandmothers can be a little eccentric. They can say things that are a bit risqué. They really can dance like no one is watching. They can tell stories about their own lives that will shock their own kids, but delight the grandkids. They can buy nonsensical or extravagant gifts. They can have favorites. They can love so hard it makes their own heart ache.
Thank you for indulging me as I’ve told you about a few of the things I love. I could go on and on. I hope I’ve inspired you to reflect on your own loves.
Why not tell me about something you love in the comments. I would delight in reading about it.
