In February I sat down to write a piece about love. Well, it was Valentine’s Day after all. I hadn’t written anything productive for a few weeks, so I put on my self-discipline hat and set to work.
Oh, I did go on at great and profound lengths about love and how we choose to define it in the contemporary world and my opinion about such said behavior. I petted, I polished, I added, I subtracted, I even went so far as to check my spelling and grammar. All done. Now to save it. And then . . . and then . . . . the author Grinch – who lives in my unsuspecting laptop reached right out and snatched it from before my disbelieving eyes.
I know what I did. I didn’t have my cursor planted firmly on the “save as” icon when I clicked. The icon was next door hovering over the “new clean document” button.
You could hear my voice echoing down the deep well of consternation: “NOOOOOOOOOoooooooo!” And then there it was. The clean, empty page.
Did I go hunting for my article? You bettcha. That was my own creation after all, to which I had given birth after two hours of hard labor. I hunted for it as one would chase after an erring child. Trust me, it was gone, gone, gone.
Gnashing of many teeth.
I whined to Doni, who made a few helpful suggestions. I tried all of them plus a few ideas of my own. Result: negatory. Then I did what any good, respectable escape artist would do. I watched TV, and went to bed.
So, today we have another day. Sunny, warm, beautiful. I know we need the rain, and I’m one of those weirdos who actually prefers rain to almost any other weather phenomenon. However, it’s difficult not to enjoy that 10 minutes a year when California is actually green from stem to stern. So I stand on my deck, face to the sun, breathing deeply and I contemplate once more facing the monster: my laptop.
The question here is, am I going to write about love? Am I going to try to recapture the pithy nuggets of wisdom pearled onto yesterday’s page? Ummmmm, probably not. I’m not good at remembering stuff from the immediate past. Fifty years ago? No problem. Yesterday’s lunch? It is marginal, at best. As a result, what you will get here is a little distillation of my take on the subject known to elicit widely divergent views and opinions from everyone over 2 years of age.
My take on the subject of love is this:
Love given is like wine (fine or otherwise) being poured out of the giver. The character, the color, the flavor of which is imparted, courtesy of all the life experiences lived by said giver up to that point. The shape of that love, however, is determined by the shape of the container into which it is poured. So, love shared takes on characteristics of both the giver and the receptor.
Whether we’re talking about a lover, a parent, a child, a pet or the love of the ocean as we stand on the shore, all love is given character and shape by both parties.
There, now aren’t you sorry you missed the whole article? I am. I wish I could remember what I said. I’m sure it must have been profound.
Adrienne Jacoby is a 40-plus-year resident of Shasta County and native-born Californian. She was a teacher of vocal music in the Enterprise Schools for 27 years and has been retired for 11 years.
A musician all her life, she was married to the late Bill Jacoby with whom she formed a locally well -known musical group who prided themselves in playing for weddings, wakes, riots, bar mitzvas and super market openings. And, oh yes … she has two children, J’Anna and Jayson.