Royalty at Heart (original) (raw)

So, Valentine's Day was yesterday. I had a pretty cool day... snackage at work & a steamer at night spending time with friends. Not too much different from the typical Wednesday, but it's always cool to spend time with the people you care about. For all of you who celebrated, I hope you had a terrific V-Day

I was thinking about it yesterday, & thought that perhaps today would be a better day to celebrate Singles' Appreciation Day. Leave the 14th for the Valentine's & then have my fun after. So I may dress up & head out tonight. For all of you out there who may be with my thoughts, I hope you have a great SA-Day!

No matter what you celebrate, single or coupled, this is a time to reflect on love. I found some articles yesterday that bring up some points & I thought I'd share:

Pictures of real love
By Alcestis "Cooky" Oberg

Valentine's Day is supposed to celebrate love. What it really celebrates is one tiny corner of love - romance. That part bombards us. It fills our TV screens, our bookshelves, our airwaves and our culture - most of it is lame fantasy nonsense, as if there were nothing else.

In real life, love is something completely different.

It's not found in the narcissism of celebrities who flit from romance to romance.

Instead it abides imperceptibly in the hearts and lives of millions of people who are not famous, but whose daily actions are a poem to love. This Valentine's Day, we should reflect on those bedrock components of love that so rarely are depicted or celebrated in our culture: loyalty, commitment and devotion - lifelong, steadfast and unconditional.

Take my old neighbor, Fred Popper. He's nearly 90 and has been married to his wife Renie for 65 years. His wife has been in failing health and had a stroke some years ago. He cared for her at home until he couldn't, then moved her to a nursing facility 10 minutes away where the care is kind and the ambience is cheerful. Every day - rain, snow, sleet or shine - he drives over and feeds her dinner. It is a task he could leave to the nurses, but he wants to do it himself.

On a recent visit, I watched as he gently raised each forkful to her mouth and smiled. She cannot speak, so if she feels uncomfortable, she lets out a loud groan. I was bewildered by her anguished cry, but Fred seemed to know just what to do - in a way that transcends ordinary human communication. He'd move a leg or an arm, strategically fluff a pillow, and she would subside into serenity.

Sometimes, when one speaks to her about old times, a beatific smile will light her face: She has briefly reconnected with the life that was hers and enjoys it again.

'A commitment'

When I told Fred how touched I was by his devotion, he said simply, "We've been married 65 years. I love her. I made a commitment."

It's the kind of commitment we don't hear about much nowadays: a lifelong allegiance to honor his mate no matter what state God has chosen to visit upon her.

Commitment is a sacred word for John and Jennifer Goldberg, too. John, a family friend, has cystic fibrosis, a deadly hereditary disease that fills his lungs with mucus and deprives his organs of oxygen. He never thought marriage was an option. But he met Jennifer at a seminary when they were both in their late 20s, and she brought within reach everything he ever wanted: marriage, children, family, joy. Both counselors and people of strong faith, John and Jennifer let their hearts guide their walk through life together. Just before Christmas, Jennifer gave birth to a big, healthy son while John awaited a lung transplant - both full of hope.

In a death-dealing world, the young family finds happiness in just being together, in doing ordinary things: going to dinner with friends, laughing at the antics of the baby, dreaming about the future.

Like ordinary couples, they have their good days and not-so-good days, part of the usual rhythm of married life. It is sometimes scary for Jennifer when John has life-threatening episodes of bad health, but they seem to have an optimism and a resilience that is extraordinary. "Life has its 'test days,' " she admits. "But he's so good, so good-hearted. He does things for me even when he's feeling sick. It's amazing what one can live with - how you can find normalcy amidst the dysfunction of illness."

Divorce is not - and never has been - an option. Their profound love for one another provides context for their existence: "There's no 'me,' no 'her,' " John explains. "There is only 'us.' "

In a culture that focuses so intensely on the flings and fantasies of celebrities, I'd like to celebrate real-life love - Fred and Renie's love, John and Jennifer's love. We should toast love that is not just a feeling, but a kind of action, a way of life, even a form of being - a definition of who one is, why one exists.

Eternal love

While we may agree that the words "I love you" are the most important words in the world, the "I love you" that matters

is not the kind that fades with time or adversity,

but the kind that survives through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, until death - and only death - parts them. "We are none of us guaranteed any time on earth," Jennifer reflects. "Living with John for whatever time we have together is so much greater than living a life without him."

This Valentine's Day, I'm raising my best champagne glass to the real lovers of the world, the Forever Valentines. These are the people for whom "I love you" is

not a fleeting infatuation

but an ironclad oath and an enduring commitment: "I will love you always, no matter what." I'll cheer the couples whose bonds are so strong and so close that to consider one person alone without the other is unimaginable - as unimaginable as an existence without context, a life without meaning.
*~*~*

Love isn't limited to one specific, contrived calendar day per year
Carol McAlice Currie

Today is Valentine's Day. But rather than ask whether you'll be mine, I want to know if you're for or against happy hearts day?

I'm firmly planted in the latter category now, but admittedly, I did not rush to embrace the notion of rejecting the requirement to do romantic every Feb. 14.

Early in our 21-year marriage, I was convinced that if my husband loved me, he shouldn't mind bowing to the pressures of the confectionery, floral, jewel and greeting-card industries by producing a gift on Valentine's Day.

He thought otherwise, but never once called me shallow, or anything else, for thinking it.

His take on the pink holiday is that if he demonstrates his love and respect on the other 364 days of the year, he shouldn't be "forced" into buying something to sate the folks at Hallmark or FTD.

It's a logical argument about an emotional issue. I wasn't swayed.

And so the man who hangs the moon for me, opposed as he is, has sent me flowers, (remembering no daisies), bought me a bauble or taken me to dinner every year. Under protest, yes, but always with a willing smile.

It has been this unfailing acceptance of my illogical need that has advanced his position and changed my mind more than anything else.

His yielding to my irrationality has helped me see, in a candy-hearts greeting sort of way, that this is a contrived holiday.

His daily public and private demonstrations of affection are too many to enumerate. He tells me early and often that he loves me, he puts up with my "occasional" rants, adores and dotes on our children, gives freely of his time to friends and family but puts us first.

Balloons, flowers and breakfast in bed pop up unexpectedly at random times of the year. He is a true partner around the house, and he manages to make me feel special and desired even when readers are calling me names, and telling me I deserve to be thrown from a moving bus.

He surprises me by baking my favorite shortbread; cooks the best over-medium eggs in the city any time my heart desires, and kills spiders without laughing at me. He has learned to like white tea and although he is a fan, he even tolerates my hatred of all things football -- especially as the season lingers on and on and on. I really should take a lesson from his book.

So today, as many of you rush to publicly declare your devotion to your loved one, maybe you'll come to recognize, as I did (albeit slowly), that expressing your love on Feb. 13 and May 21 and Nov. 4 is just as important as wrapping it up in a doily today.

I'd be curious to know if others share my view that the real thing doesn't come wrapped in a velvet box or standing in a vase filled with water. Let me know.

And hon, you're off the hook for the iPod radio receiver. Happy Valentine's Day.
*~*~*

When there was romance
By Tom Purcell

Hey, pallie, what the heck happened to romance?

I use the word "pallie" in deference to the great Dean Martin. Last summer, just before the annual Dean Martin Festival in Dino's home town of Steubenville, Ohio, I decided to compare today's hits with his.

I started with the No. 1 song on Billboard Magazine's Hot 100 list, "Hips Don't Lie" by Shakira. This song was a hit, no doubt, because of its eloquent lyrics:

"Nobody can ignore the way you move your body, girl And everything so unexpected —- the way you right and left it So you can keep on shaking it"

No. 2 on the list was "Ridin'" by Chamillionaire, a rap performer. Here's a little taste of that song's poetry:

"Tippin' down, sittin' crooked on my chrome Bookin' my phone, tryin' to find a chick I wanna (slang expletive)"

No. 3 on the list was "Promiscuous" by Nelly Furtado, a song brimming with love and affection:

"You expect me to let you just hit it But will you still respect me if you get it "

Ah, modern romance. Things sure have changed since Dino dropped off the charts. Now I know why: Romance is dead.

Whereas the top three hits above celebrate human nature at its most base -- wiggling one's hips to stoke male arousal, looking for "chicks" to satisfy your urge, or wondering if a fellow will stick around after he samples the goods -- Dino's simple music spoke to the heart.

Consider the lyrics to "Amore":

"When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie That's amore When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine That's amore"

Amore means "love" in Italian, a mysterious and magical energy that every human longs for. Love is the basis of many of Dino's songs. It's nowhere to be found in the three hit songs I just referenced.

In 1964, when The Beatles' new sound was making them the most popular band on Earth, Dino knocked "Hard Day's Night" out of the top spot. He did so with "Everybody Loves Somebody," an old-fashioned song that resonated with all age groups:

"Everybody loves somebody sometime Everybody falls in love somehow Something in your kiss just told me That sometime is now"

Whereas many of

today's hit songs celebrate fear, anger and cynicism

, Dino's songs celebrate sweetness and innocence. His songs are idealistic and uplifting. They are ROMANTIC.

Dino's songs celebrate the subtle dance of the spirit between a man and a woman -- the magic that occurs when two complementary natures collide.

They celebrate mystery -- the deep interest and curiosity a man holds for a woman and a woman for a man.

They celebrate hopefulness -- they focus on the future, on the hopes that one day a special person will enter your life and sweep you off your feet, a person you will love forever.

The simple, intense lyrics of his song "Sway" sum up this longing well:

"Other dancers may be on the floor Dear, but my eyes will see only you Only you have the magic technique When we sway I go weak"

I know Dino had his peccadilloes in his personal life, but his music remains untainted. With every passing year, as coarseness seeps into our culture a little more, his songs hold more power over me.

We need to get back to the spirit of his music -- the spirit of romance. I can't think of a better day to do so than Valentine's Day.

All we have to do is observe older couples who fell in love years ago, when Dino was still king of the charts. I marveled at the eloquence of such couples at the Dean Martin Festival last summer.

As the Dean Martin impersonator began to sing -- a fellow so convincing you'd think the old crooner was there in the flesh -- they sauntered to the front of the stage, holding hands. They began to sway with a sweetness and easiness that couples knew long ago.

When there was romance.