Only Love
Wednesday, March 19, 2008 at 11:44PM All day I thought about love! Love, y'all. Yes, love.
Well ... except when I was forced to think about linear accelerators and flow meters and microwave technology and sequential delivery techniques and nuclear medicine and why in the sam hill won't people speak UP and/or stop talking OVER one another, and related topics ... all under subheading (i) entitled, A (tedious) Day in the Life of a Court Reporter Who is More Than Ready to Retire. (Will Write For Food.)
Love, love, love all day long on the radio. I was about nine years old when I demanded of Mama: what was the meaning of this?
But as is often the case, when I sortied at seven o'clock this morning for the ninety-minute drive to Florence, South Carolina, where it was a shoo-in I'd be bored practically into oblivion for most of the day reporting exceedingly technical deposition testimony, by way of preparation I thunk my sundry writerly thoughts to the lush, über-romantic strains of Josh Groban's seminal work, Closer.
He sings in French! He sings in Italian! He sings in English! And probably dances in several languages too! Most likely the boy can brush his teeth in Latin and make it sound like angels humming. So beautiful. You've heard it here before but I cannot get enough of songs like My Confession, You're Still You, Si Volvieras a Mi, Broken Vow, Per Te (For You), and Hymne a l'Amour. TrPs, trPs bon. As I wended my way, inspiration, love's canny cognate, followed like a faithful puppy.
As if the stellar (and cute) Josh does not provide sufficient impetus to induce romantic overload, you do not want to get me started on the improbably handsome and impossibly talented Carlos, David, Sebastian and Urs -- collectively known as Il Divo -- who make me go weak at the knees when they croon Unchained Melody in Italian ... not to mention Una Noche (One Night), Every Time I Look At You, Si Tű Me Amas, and The Man You Love. Yum Yum ... romance du jour, with extra whipped cream and candy sprinkles on top. I'm listening to them exactly now.
If there were a soundtrack to the dubious cinematic achievement that is mi vida loca, these songs would comprise it ... because I'm nutty about love. Isn't everyone?
This whole love thing actually started a long time ago. My mother loves music and loves to sing, and I caught that breathless adoration of music from her. When I was a little kid it seems to me we were always listening to the radio, both in the car and at home. The Ray Conniff Singers (Somewhere My Love), Bert Kaempfert and his Orchestra (Red Roses for a Blue Lady), Andy Williams (Can't Get Used to Losin' You), Perry Como (Till the End of Time), Frank Sinatra (Strangers In the Night), Eddy Arnold (Welcome to My World), Matt Munro (Walk Away), Nat King Cole (Answer Me), Barbra Streisand (People), Eydie Gorme (As Long As He Needs Me), Peggy Lee (Fever), Petula Clark (Don't Sleep in the Subway), Vikki Carr (With Pen In Hand) ... I would listen closely to the words (Mama already knew them all) and try to sing along as glamorously as she did.
One day the realization struck me with the force of a thunderclap: with the notable exception of songs like Roger Miller's King of the Road and England Swings, or Sergeant Sadler's Ballad of the Green Berets (these were the Vietnam years), or Jeannie C. Riley's Harper Valley PTA, ninety-nine point nine percent of these songs were about love! Love's joyous beginning, love's difficult road, love's sad end. Love, love, love all day long on the radio. I was about nine years old when I demanded of Mama: what was the meaning of this?
I like the part in the movie Father of the Bride where George Banks, watching his wife Nina descend the stairs on the day of their daughter's wedding, says something along these lines: "Years later I would not be able to remember what she wore, but I would never forget how she looked." Similarly, all these years later I cannot recall exactly how my mother worded her answer when I asked her why all the songs were about love ... but I will never forget what she said: "Well ... what else is there?"
Indeed.
Reader Comments (4)
I will say I've fought some grueling battles in my time, but none were fought more fiercely than those fought for love.
What else is there? Nothing... which is precisely why we feel empty when we lose someone we love.
I know that feeling all too well.
I do believe that to some extent, I understand this broad concept called love. i embrace it. I've always been told since I was a little kid (as opposed to being a big kid now) that I have a "big heart and a lot of love". I try to live that. I am actually listening to Mi Mancherai. Right now. :) I told my dad that I want Josh's CDs for my birthday. Anyway, I have a huge problem with teens saying they "love each other" when in fact, they dont truly understand. I gave up on believing that it was possible for people to be "in love". Love is a commitment, not just some mushy feeling. Honestly, spending this weekend with you and your family has taught me a lot more than I expected to learn. That is one of the reasons I find you and your husband so fascinating. After all four kids are grown up and out of the house, the two of you are still in love. Sure, there are hard times. Life's not perfect, people are not perfect. But at the end of the day, you still have each other. I don't think I've ever seen that. Perhaps my grandparents. But theyre both remarried(to each other from other marriages) so it's a little different. I understand and know how to express phileo(brotherly)love. maybe oneday i'll understand agape.
I think you understand the concept of love very well indeed, Robyn! It is an act of the will. Choose your love and love your choice, as it were.
You certainly saw us with our imperfections on prominent display, but despite our shortcomings both individually and as a family, there is a lot of love between us all.
God is faithful, and I believe that someday you will have a lovely Christian marriage and family. All that has been put into you has not been lost on you. You're like a little sponge!
That reminds me of a short poem:
Out of a fall
Love makes a stepping stone
And quite reverses
All the foe has done.
Thank you. I hope so.
I don't believe I've ever been compared to a little sponge before.