Love

At age sixteen, I was what singer Don McLean described in “American Pie”: “… a lonely teenage broncin’ buck, with a pink carnation and a pickup truck.” But a miracle happened: Judy agreed to be my date for the Junior-Senior Prom.

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Judy was voted Leland High’s Most Beautiful. In all the ways males evaluate females, she was a paradigm of pulchritude. I wasn’t elected Most Handsome. Had there been a Most Unhandsome category, I would have won in the first primary. My physique and facial features were marvels of asymmetry — long arms, long legs, pigeon chest, giraffe neck, and buckteeth. However, I was elected Class Favorite, and I suspect that is why she condescended to be escorted by me. At eleven o’clock, her father was waiting at the door, and instead of a kiss from my dream woman, all I got was a cold handshake and terse “thank you.” That was our first and last date. Since that date, a half century ago, when I was certain I knew love’s true meaning, I’m certain I still don’t know love’s true meaning. One reason is that I use the word too much. I’ll say I love my daughters and grandsons, but a few minutes later, with almost as much emotional emphasis, I’m apt to say I love Loretta, my pickup. It’s not just me. The word love has become a catchall term all of us abuse. Haphazardly, we use it to indicate affection for pets, clothes, cars, sports, and, if they are our favorite foods, collard greens and chitterlings. Searching for a clear definition, I emailed friends, promising to be their Valentine if they would define love for me. One friend sent an arithmetic definition: “Smart man + smart woman = romance; smart man + dumb woman = affair; dumb man + smart woman = marriage; dumb man + dumb woman = pregnancy.” Another defined love in terms of change: “A woman marries a man expecting he’ll change, but he doesn’t; a man marries a woman expecting she won’t change, and she does.” Another defined love in terms of happiness: “To be happy with a man, you must understand him a lot and love him a little. To be happy with a woman, you must love her a lot and not try to understand her at all.” Another defined love in terms of the future: “A woman worries about the future until she gets a husband. A man never worries about the future until he gets a wife.” Another defined love in terms of success: “A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend; a successful woman is one who finds such a man.” My friends didn’t help. I was still clueless about love’s true definition. So, I consulted a book of sayings by Mother Teresa, who loved with every breath she took. She said, “I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love.”