The basics of love can be as simple as the thrill of sparkling diamond fireworks appearing seconds after the burst of red and blue or hearing a particularly well-arranged version of a favorite song.
The word may be more loosely than the emotions. We love a football team, a blue car, our neighbor’s tabby cat, the smooth sauce on a half rack of ribs. There are friends we love. Relatives we love. Family we love. The one most desire, a someone to love.
Loving is a gift of humanity as well as a trigger into dissatisfaction, loneliness, despair. Sometimes the search for a place where love can be shared is difficult and it isn’t always successful. It is helpful to identify that when it emanates from another human.
“Hello in There,” a song by John Prine is the story of an older man who lives in a city with his wife. Their only son was killed in a war. Most days they sit around and watch the world. He encourages people to look at older folks passing by, remember how lonely they might be, and try saying hello. If possible, spread a thin little layer of love to someone in need, even an acknowledging smile to the person next in line. Maybe you prefer to think of that tiny effort as paying it forward. Doesn’t matter. May the love come back to you as well.
Before surgery I read up on painkillers. Bottom line, I was grateful that options existed and realistic about accepting possible reactions. Jimmy John’s sandwiches were never mentioned in that patient information.
My first night post-operative I looked around my room, stared into what I thought was a giant security television screen (aka a dark window), pulled together all the visual clues available, and determined that there was a sizeable Jimmy John’s sandwich party happening across the hall. Giant carts of food appeared to be going into a room with people following. I thought I saw, or heard, that the party was in honor of my surgeon.
Not eating in the prior thirty hours made a sandwich appealing. I think I’ve only eaten a Jimmy John’s tuna salad special at a corporate lunch meeting. I remember because I was the last person choosing a box. Tuna salad, tuna salad, tuna salad. Three boxes of the same choice. The only decision was if I was hungry enough to eat a Jimmy John’s tuna salad sandwich.
According to hospital people watching me that night, I decided I needed to freshen up before heading to the party and attempted to get out of bed dragging tubes and lines and monitors. I asked for a clean gown, something less revealing, and my personal bag so I could brush my hair, wash my face, and find my undies. I was ready to socialize. Maybe celebrate that surgery was over, chat about the joy of warm blankets, or share escape plans.
What’s fascinating is how in a somewhat dark situation, something deep in my mind took stock of what it could observe and found the potential for a few minutes of joy as well as the possibility of grabbing a sandwich, maybe a cold soda, and a little time to chit chat with absolute strangers. I am an introvert, and not fond of fast foot sandwiches on small loaves of bread. In normal times I would need a serious reason to head into a room of strangers, especially if wearing a lousy hospital gown. But that night a party sounded awesome.
Physicians have known since Plato that there is a direct correlation between the mind, body and health. The psychological and physical are not separate but are vitally linked in healing the body. When the painkillers were not taking care of what my body was experiencing, my simple belief is that my mind accepted responsibility for creating a happier framework. In the absence of other stimuli to distract focus from what was hurting, I planned that party room. I made decisions about whether I was ready to have chips (not), if a diet cola or a lemon-lime soft drink would taste better (lemon-lime), how to blend in with all the people in uniforms or street clothes (unresolved). My problem solving and creativity pulled me through a night that could have been worse.
This is the power of human vitality. We can live, grow, develop in many situations, not only on sunny days but also during threatening storms. Be gentle with your expectations if this is not a time to go for the stars. Share a Jimmy John’s with a friend. Enjoy a mini party, if only in your mind. Wear a robe if your gown hangs open in the back.
Scratchy eyes, stuffed noses and sneezes mark the official leaf out of trees for many with allergies. In the upper Midwest climate change is warming our falls and appears to be cooling April and May. Typical years would have 12 April days with high temps of between 55 and 70 degrees. For two years we have had half of that. And trees need warmer temps on a steady schedule in April to grow leaves by May 1. Not only do we have slow moving weather, but Alberta wildfire smoke that blocks blue skies.
Ducks have been surveying our backyard, ignoring a small noisy dog, for the right place to lay their eggs. For two days they try the mulch under pine trees. Another day they sit in the middle of the lawn. Then they disappear.
Our little granddaughter is able to race around the house holding onto one finger of an adult’s hand. For a few days she managed to travel the same track independently with a huge smile and laughs. After a few days of going solo, she returned to walking with someone. A week later she ran to greet us.
Nature hesitates. The trees are quite healthy, the ducks will probably settle someplace under a neighbor’s deck, our granddaughter will travel on her own today or tomorrow. The world keeps spinning during these brief respites during transitions. Planets don’t collapse, rules of gravity remain intact, global population increases.
What I need to take away from nature is the difference between hesitation and procrastination. It’s okay to push back a haircut for a whole lot of reasons, but not so good to ignore a mammography or eye test. The choice between sloppy joes or pork chops for dinner can be delayed until right before I leave the grocery store. If I forget, there are scrambled eggs for dinner.
Hesitation has been given a bad rap. “He hesitated” implies a less than enthusiastic response to a question or opportunity. The elevator hesitated takes a story a whole different direction. She stepped on the gas and the car hesitated might mean a substantial repair bill.
Yet hesitations can be like a “could” instead of a “should” in a day if we lean into the luxury of rolling lesser decisions forward. In a life directed by dreaded to do lists, I hope I can leave paint swatches up on the wall another week to study how they look in the sun and light. A friend of mine did that for the entire holiday season including her husband’s staff party. Why not?
