Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Random thoughs on love

      February is as fine a month as any for getting teary-eyed about love. One entire day – Valentine’s Day – is devoted to all things romantic and dulls the bleakness from the remaining winter weeks now that the Super Bowl hoopla is over and Mr. Phil has made his shadowy prediction.
      Card companies, florists and candy makers have at it, and may our hearts flutter at the extra attention. Bring on the chocolate. Inflate the balloons. I wouldn’t think of robbing you of business opportunities while the snow season is fizzling out and spring is around a distant corner or two.

     All things handmade are most welcome, too, and worth the personal touch. It’s the thought that counts.
      “Love you to pieces” is a phrase I use constantly throughout the year like a child’s toy top rotating in circles until it slows down, briefly wobbles in the other direction and rolls over to a complete stop. Definitely overkill.
     As a matter of fact, I close online correspondence to friends and family with it — henceforth in this writing “it” is how I will refer to “love you to pieces.” I say it as a term of endearment, and without discretion to any and all people that I care for in life.
    If I must say so, it is one of those statements like “lots of love” and #foreverloved that is well worn without a whole lot of personalized thought going into it unless you share it wisely.

     One afternoon I dropped to the couch completely flabbergasted. I couldn’t believe that I used it to compliment the UPS driver for his delivery during an ice storm. Is that necessary? After all, he is performing his job well and a generic word or two of appreciation would be fine I am quite certain. Just because I felt a little guilty that just this one time my driveway hadn’t been plowed, I doubt that it bothered him one bit mushing through the drifts.
     Granted I do know my UPS driver very well since he has been the regular on my route for years, and when my doorbell rings around dinnertime, I am quite certain it is his friendly face. I love that idea to pieces, too.  

      That is right after I say it to the carpet service cleaning man who freshens my house for another year of living with a pet and his sensitive stomach. I am so grateful that I am beside myself. There is nothing like the finishing touch of a professional for beginning the year with the house in order.
     Neither the UPS driver nor the carpet cleaner bat an eye, and apparently, they are pleased with my goodwill. They must get their share of yelling and complaining customers on a daily basis, and someone being kind is welcomed.
     Earlier in the day I told my husband that “I love you to pieces” for remembering to pick up the dry cleaning without being asked. Perhaps this is a case where it is appropriate language for a loved one. It keeps us giving in a positive way like a gift of a plant – providing I can keep it alive.
     My gardening friend, whose column you will find in the second section of the newspaper, advises that talking directly with plants and flowers does worlds of good as much as using fertilizer regularly. If that includes loving words, then I won’t hold back.

     The meaning of the phrase really makes no sense. Do I love you because you are a mess and in shambles? Do I love you so much that I embrace every single part of your lovely nature?
      I went online to check out if a song has the title or words in the lyrics, and sure enough, I found a song, “Love You to Pieces.”
     “So ready or not I'm gonna love you to pieces
     The only way that I know how
     I've got a hunch that you just want to leave me
     I'm gonna love you till you burst.”
     Jerry Messersmith recorded the song in his second album, “The Silver City” back in 2008.

     I’ll admit that I’ve never heard the song, and the singer has no name recognition. I listen on iTunes to a dreamy song by Messersmith, a popular indie rock singer, who appeared on the Letterman show last summer.
     Unfortunately, the tune has no sticking power, though, and I will never remember a single phrase, except you know which one. There is no past history for me, and often that is how I remember lyrics. “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” got me through a rough patch, and “Yellow Submarine” played daily while I was waiting for a job offer.
     There are many more artists that have also recorded versions of it. Again, there are no familiar names, and in fact, most of the groups have never been ones I’ve followed. That’s not so unusual, though. Each generation has its music.  

     It dawns on me that “I love you to pieces” is a phrase from the South where affectionate folks are demonstrative in words and hugs. Love is part of the cultural tradition along with iced tea, pecan pie, black-eyed peas and open arms. Don’t forget the biscuits and gravy.  
     Watch any re-run of the classic series, “Dallas” and “The Beverly Hill Billies” and it is oozing from mouths like syrup poured over a plate of pancakes hot off the griddle.

     #Love you all to pieces @kaywriter. Have a  #HappyValentine’sDay.