My friend, Laurie, told me this week I should write something that includes advice for the lovelorn. According to Merriam Webster, the definition of lovelorn is bereft of love or of a lover, of which I wish to state right up front, I am neither. But just to be sure, I looked up bereft … an adj. meaning deprived or robbed of the possession or use of something —usually used with of. The online Etymology Dictionary indicates it’s a term from the 1630’s … love + lorn (see lose).
I’m not sure why she thinks I would qualify to expound positively, negatively or otherwise on love or lorn, me being single and all … but she had me in a position on her massage table where I was so relaxed and in a state of complete zen that I wasn’t likely to argue with her about anything. My earlier comment that a man should woo a woman for a lifetime must have touched her soul. And I meant it … even if he has been sleeping next to her for 50 years in ratty old flannel pajamas. Before I get into trouble, here, I also believe a woman has her own longterm wooing to do … both have to commit from the get-go to making and stoking fire. In this case, it IS about the little things.
From the view from my heart, I’ve been lucky in love. Lucky enough to have fallen world-spinning, vision-blinding, crazy-making in love three (okay, five, maybe six) times in my life. You could say unlucky that I’m not with any of them, but that would diminish the original statement. Lucky that I’m still friends with almost all of them … those that are still alive with a sense of forgiveness anyway. There’s one from art school that I can’t find, but he’ll surface one day. I just feel it. The real unlucky part is that in one of those, I fell alone. Totally by myself. Oh, he pushed me alright, but once I was headed over the edge, he didn’t bother to fall with me. Kerplunk! And I dangled there for more years than I can count. Too many.
But that was a long time ago and Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. Love is in the air, as it should be. To you upstate … I will always remain wistful … I wish I had taken better care of your heart … you are the pirate’s booty in my life even today for the friends we have become. I love you. You know that. To you across town whom I’ve never met … somedaymaybebaby.
Is that lovelorn enough? ‘Cause it’s a beautiful day and I’ve got places to go and people to see. Looking for love in places I never dreamed I’d go 🙂
Carol Woods. Saturday morning before Valentine’s Day. Love at any age.
For the last 11 years, A Helping Hand has been the driving force behind an annual Valentine Delivery and Serenade that actually gets out and delivers more than 3,000 hand-crafted valentines to older adults. Oh, wait … I’m an older adult. I guess I should say seniors. How many years before I qualify for that?
This year kicked off at Carol Woods Retirement Community in Chapel Hill with a capella performances by the UNC Achordants, the UNC Loreleis, and the Duke Rhythm and Blue, who shared love songs with residents. After performing in the assembly hall, the 3 groups split up to visit the various assisted living buildings and health care center residents delivering valentines, long-stemmed roses and love songs.
Earlier when I was talking about luck … this is where mine kicks in! I got to escort the UNC Achordants around. Imagine. Me and some 15 or so adorable and talented men. Seriously. These guys are … ok, I’ll just whisper it … hurt me now … awesome. Even their Facebook page states “Singing people’s faces off since 2011 and still going strong.” And don’t even start with me about tiptoeing into cougar territory. It was not, I repeat, NOT about that. They went above and beyond. Go take a listen to More Than A Feeling on Grooveshark.
In one of the dining halls, several of these young men circulated the room, going down on one knee to take the hands of a few of the women. To see the girlish blush of delight on the women’s faces at being personally sung to by a handsome young man … well … that’s wooing at its finest. Made my poor romantic heart proud. UNC Achordants, y’all done good. Real good!
Coincidentally, my parents live here. I had to hold back tears at watching my Mom, who has fairly advanced dementia, flirt with one of the young male singers. She can’t remember who I am, but by God, she remembers the words to songs. When I can’t reach her, we sing together and for a whisper of a moment we are connected again.
Should have guessed with First Friday Artwalk that Glasshalfull would be jam packed, and it was. Good for them! I love seeing my favorite places (this being one of them) owned by some of my favorite people (these being Mickey, Betsy and Jim) filled with happy customers. I was contributing to the happy … dressed up and out with a charming man, and he was enjoying that I decided to go with a little décolletage.
GHF is always at the top of my “go-to” list. Armed with a bottle of Row Eleven Pinot Noir (2007 Santa Maria Valley, CA), we shared the Charcuterie and Cheese Plates, so as to leave room for dessert.
Ahhhhhh, good massage client, good girl! It is always a good idea to mind your massage therapist! You get wellness points for this post! Take a deep breath in, all you lovelorn (ie all of us) hearties, and breath that love that is literally in the air, in the etheric atmosphere all around us, from the Great Heart. Its golden, its available, and if you take a single step towards it, it will take ten towards you. See Love Dogs by Rumi read by Coleman Barks. Thanks, De Bo Rah!
Another great read. I need to get some music into my life; what a good influence you are, fellow traveller! So moved by your essay about songs and singers and memory at Carol Woods.