I Believe In Love

September 20, 2013 | Leave a Comment

I believe in love. You know—-the romantic kind. The kind where—-when you can’t be with her every minute, you feel crazy—-not obsessive—-crazy—-because you miss her so much. Because her being with you completes you. Makes you know that you can do anything. Anything. And, in the doing—-you want more than anything to support and help your love in any way you can.

It’s difficult to put into words, isn’t it? But—-many of you know exactly what I mean.

A story. My Dad was a bank teller his entire adult life. Retired from it. No real glamor there—-just an honest job that he did well. Years after he was gone, someone who did business with him told me how, if you needed banking help—-my Dad was the one to go to. So—-he was a bank teller. That’s what he did. His and my Mom’s life was not extraordinary. They had their ups and downs. Sound familiar? But—-no matter what—-they were there for each other. Whether in the middle of an up or a down.

Because my Mom and Dad were on a budget, my Dad elected to fix everything that broke in the house that he possibly could—-to avoid the expense of having someone come in to fix it. We had an old oil furnace in our house that needed to have its firebox relined every so often. So the family could keep warm. Feel secure. And—-my Dad would labor—-sitting in front of that furnace on a stool for hours and hours—-molding furnace cement in his hands—-to do the job that needed doing. And—-of course—-as he got older—-that job became harder and harder….But—-he did it. As it happened, the last time he did it, he stumbled emotionally—-wasn’t sure he could do it again. Probably was afraid and wondering what would happen if he failed. My Mom—-God bless her—came down into the basement. She said: “you can do it Hoot (his lifelong nickname)—-you can do it. Here—-let’s do it together.” And—-so they did. Mom and Dad. Working on an aging furnace firebox. And they got it done. Because they loved one another so much. And—-because they wanted to support and help each other in any way they could.

Whenever someone tries to tell you that love is about things—-about money—-about fine mansion-like houses—-about a lot of social posturing—-about any of the stupid things that many folks make love out to be these days—-don’t you believe it. Instead, you tell them about my Mom and Hoot working on that old furnace.

I believe in love. You know—-the romantic kind.




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