Happy Valentine’s Day. Not because it’s a man-made holiday that exploits the guilt feelings of both men and women and forces them to go forth (or fifth) and spend a lot of money on flowers that will die and candy that will be eaten, but because it’s just one more excuse for me to tell the blogosphere how very much I love it, and how very much at home I feel when I am in it. This golden heart is supposed to sing and dance but I have no control over the feng shui of the universe. I thank you all for being my blogging neighbors.
During my annual re-reading of “A Lantern in Her Hand” and “A White Bird Flying” (two of my very favorites and I highly recommend them to all of you) I was again struck and reduced to tears by the simple message etched on the stones in the garden path at the home of J. Sterling Morton (who gave Arbor Day to the nation) and his bride: Hours fly, Flowers die. New days, New ways, Pass by. Love stays.
Love stays.
And in the book, Laura is more touched and moved by the sight of one simple little china dish, a little china hen spreading her china wings, that Mrs. Morton brought to Nebraska with her, than by the grandeur of the governor’s eventual home. I am that way, too, for it is the small things that make a home, not any grand exterior or grounds. I love these two books beyond any ability to tell you how much.
The new motto of the Wittenburg Door is this, by Molly Ivins, and I may have to adopt it as my motto, too.
“… keep fightin’ for freedom and justice, beloveds, but don’t you forget to have fun doin’ it. Lord, let your laughter ring forth. Be outrageous, ridicule the fraidy-cats, rejoice in all the oddities that freedom can produce. And when you get through kickin’ ass and celebratin’ the sheer joy of a good fight, be sure to tell those who come after how much fun it was.”
I have never been much of a fighter, but maybe it’s time to start swinging.
No, not THAT kind of swinging. Scheisse, I love the blogosophere.
I hope everyone’s day is full of love and Hershey’s Kisses. They’re called ‘kisses’ because of the sound the machine makes when it lays one down on the belt. How would you like to work there? “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss. . . .” all day long. By the time those people get home, their hormones must be raw and ready to be salved. If you know what I mean.
Love doesn’t need a designated day, but as busy as many people are, it’s just as well that they’re reminded of it once in a while. But friends, what we don’t need is more flowers and candy. What we really want are wireless digital picture frames, massages, and a night out. It doesn’t have to be an expensive night out, either. Then again, I am very, very low-maintenance, and proud of it.
“. . . all the oddities that freedom can produce. . . .” Why would we ever want anything else?
I miss you, Molly. But, love stays.