Day 2254: Love Letters

Today’s blogging love letter is inspired by a lovely conversation with loving WordPress blogger Debra, whom I loved meeting in Los Angeles on Friday. I told Debra that my son, Aaron, whom I love, does not read my blog and how he has told me that he will read all the letters, words, sentences, and paragraphs in my blog after I die.

I told Debra that I love that, because after I’m gone Aaron will discover that this blog is “a love letter to him, as well as to many others.”

In this daily blog, over the past six years, I have written love letters to

• my son Aaron,
• my boyfriend Michael,
• my sister Ellen,
• my parents,
• my therapy groups,
• group therapy,
• my readers,
• my ex-sister-in-law Deborah,
• my ex-sister-in-law Diane,
• my other ex-in-laws (including my nieces Laura, Julie, and Victoria)
• my sister-in-law Linda,
• my cousin Lani,
• my friend Barbara,
• my friend Deb,
• my friend Carol,
• my friend Jeanette,
• friends and ex-college-roommates Marcia and Maria,
• my friends Janet and Ray,
• my friend Megan,
• my friend Janis,
• my friend Dave,
• my friend Lawry,
• my friend Eleanor,
• my friend Arnie,
• my friend Peggy,
• My friend Kathy,
• My friend Jenn and her family,
• My Scottish heart sisters Vicki and Andrena,
• my son Aaron’s friends,
• my co-worker Alice,
• other co-workers (past and present),
• my ex-neighbor Karen,
• my dentist,
• healers,
• school friends,
• childhood friends,
• children of all ages,
• fellow bloggers I’ve met including Mark Bialczak, Lisa from Daily Musings,  Val Boyko from Find Your Middle Ground,  and the aforementioned Debra from breathelighter,
• fellow bloggers I haven’t met (yet),
• blogging,
• my high school classmates including Jean and Beth,
• my old schools,
• my old business partner Jonathan,
• Ron Lynch,
• Dr. Neil Portenza/Josh Ladgrove,
• Irv Yalom,
• Pat Metheny,
• Lyle Mays,
• Michael Brecker,
• Jean-Luc Ponty,
• Jaco Pastorius,
• Miles Davis,
• Stephen Sondheim,
• Gene Kelly and other dancers,
• Todd Rundgren,  Stevie Wonder, Steely Dan, and other singer-songwriters,
• Mel Brooks and other film-makers,
• Jackie Chan,
• Martin Luther King,
• Walt Disney,
• Jane Austen, William Shakespeare, John Collier, and other writers,
• other celebrities,
• other activists,
• people with unusual hearts,
• musicals,
• movies,
• television shows,
• jazz,
• strangers I’ve met who have immediately become less strange,
• Boston, Massachusetts,
• the North Shore of Boston,
• the South Shore of Boston,
• South Carolina,
• Panama,
• Iceland,
• Edinburgh,
• the Edinburgh Festival Fringe,
• the ocean,
• my hair artiste MiAlisa,
• my car mechanics,
• my car,
• my medical doctors and other treaters,
• group therapy professional organizations,
• comedy,
• comedians,
• music,
• musicians,
• writers,
• other creative types,
• our cats,
• dogs,
• animals,
• nature,
• happy people,
• people in pain,
• all the different human emotions,
• languages,
• words and definitions,
• signs,
• certain letters of the alphabet, and
• many other inspiring and/or ordinary subjects and objects.

I sometimes love linking to past blog posts and sometimes I don’t, especially when my love letter list is so long! I also don’t love leaving people off of loving lists, so I may be adding more love letters to this post, later.

What love letters are you writing these days?

I should write love letters to Ron Lynch for inviting me to warm up the crowd last night at his Tomorrow! show in L.A. and also to Don for sending me the video, as promised.

I look forward to all the letters in the comments section, below.

Love letters to all  who helped me create today’s blogging love letter and — of course! — to YOU, my lovely and loving readers.

Day 397: Everybody loves you

I am going to start this post with a quote from my boyfriend, Michael.  Actually, I am going to start this post by retiring Michael’s title of “boyfriend,” in honor of my feisty friend Sarah, who used to work with me and who gave me a hard time every time I used that term.

What are you two,  fifteen years old?

Sarah would say.  And since I am about to turn sixty-one years young¹ tomorrow, maybe it’s time to heed Sarah’s advice, and stop using the term “boyfriend.”

But how else should I refer to Michael?  Here are some possibilities:

Partner

Old man

Main squeeze

Significant other

None of those sound great to me, for various reasons. I’m not sure why “boyfriend” has always seemed like the best choice, so far. Perhaps, the terms we hear when we are young are difficult to shake.

A logical replacement for “boyfriend” would be …. “manfriend.” But nobody says that. If I did use that term, that would be too distracting.  That would derail people from any story I wanted to tell about Michael.

Like now.

One more thing, before I get back on track. I supposed I could just refer to Michael by name, with no identifying title.  That always seems self-centered and unhelpful, though. Why should I expect anybody to remember the name of my boyfriend/partner/old man/main squeeze/significant other/manfriend … without a helpful hint? Or remember my name, for that matter?

Maybe people should remember, though!  Maybe we’re important enough to be remembered, without any identifying information, dammit!

Anyway, let me start this post over.

This post is about a phrase that Michael says to me, quite often. It’s kind of a joke, a running gag, between us.

Picture this, if you will. I come home from work, walk up the stairs, and enter through the back door, into the kitchen.  I am often pretty tired, and I immediately sit down at the same table where I write this blog.

Let me set the scene, with a photo of that table:

That’s not a great photo, actually, to give you an accurate picture, since there are other distracting elements in that shot. I’ll check my photo stash and see if I can do a better job …

…. Nope.  Can’t find a better photo, right now.

I suppose I could take a new photo of the table, but the light isn’t correct (it’s the wrong time of day). Also, I’d have to find my friggin’ phone to take it.

Maybe, just maybe, setting the scene accurately isn’t quite as important as I sometimes think. In any case, back to the story.

So, after I return home from work, I sit down at the table where I write this blog. Michael is usually in the kitchen, making dinner. If not, he comes into the kitchen. He greets me:

How was your day, babe?

or words to that effect.   I then tell him what’s foremost on my mind from my day at work (of course, leaving out any details as dictated by confidentiality). When I’m finished talking, Michael will usually respond, with our running gag, like so:

Everybody loves you, Ann.

And I smile. Or laugh. It never gets old.

Why?

Well, even though Michael has said this many, many times, there’s always some element of surprise.

I am rarely — if ever — feeling universally lovable, as I’m telling my work-a-day stories.   I’m sharing what has lingered from the day and — as I’ve often written about here — the negative sticks. So, my stories are often tinged with regret, worry, concern, or at least a wish to learn from mistakes I’ve made.

So Michael’s response, no matter how often I’ve heard it, surprises me, on some level. And, as many Humor Experts ² have opined:  When we laugh, it’s an expression of the unexpected.

Sometimes, when I return home after work, I’m feeling great —  very much in touch with pride in my work and with my gratitude for doing work I value and enjoy.  In those cases, when Michael says

Everybody loves, you, Ann

my laugh expresses joy (or celebration, which I wrote about recently).

And, no matter how I’m feeling after work, I can always appreciate the absurd in Michael’s response. No matter how worthy and lovable we are, no matter how much I may yearn for Michael’s statement to be true … not everybody is going to love us.  It’s impossible.

And that’s okay.  We can still survive, thrive, and keep on going.

Okay! I’ve got to end this post, because I’ve got an appointment with Mia ³, very soon.

Thanks to Sarah, Michael, Mia, my old⁴ student Chris Delyani (whose book is in the photo above), everybody I love, people who love me, and everybody who has ever loved or been loved by anybody.  And, more thanks to you, for visiting and reading today.

---

1. I hear Mel Brooks‘s voice in my head as I say this, thanks to his 2000 Year Old Man albums. Thanks, Mel!

2. Despite any expectations on your part, there are no helpful details about humor experts in this footnote.  (This gag never gets old for me, either.)

3. Mia is the woman who cuts my hair.  Just as I have trouble finding a good title for Michael, I never know what to call Mia, either. My hairdresser?  No, that’s my mother’s term.  My stylist?  Too pretentious and not accurate, since I don’t experience myself as being “styled” in any way.  Also, I feel uncomfortable using the possessive term “my” about people in my life.  Feel free to make suggestions about what I might call Mia (or Michael, too, I suppose).

4. I never know what word to use in this situation, either, since “old” has such negative connotations. Chris isn’t old; I just met him a long time ago, when I was teaching a class at Boston University. Feel free to make suggestions about what word to use here, also.