Love Me, Love Me Not, Love Me!

Blog soundtrack sandwich (this is the piece o' bread with the peanut butter on it):


When cleaning out my desk a few weeks ago, once again, this small box sat there in the drawer and yelled up at me, “Hey, you’ve had me for over 10 years and never written me. What’s up with that?”



Hmmm. Good and interesting question, Small Box.

I am not sure if I’ve ever written a love letter, and I’m not sure that I’ve ever received one. I always thought a love letter was written on floral stationery, and in it, you told the recipient in ten different ways or maybe even more why your heart pounded every time you saw him or her; and perhaps, where the envelope was sealed, you might even find a "S.W.A.K" (Sealed With A Kiss) written in, of course, a red felt-tip pen pen.

I had one boyfriend, Ernie, and he painted cards for me.



So, was that a love letter or a small work of art?

I had another boyfriend, Robert, who used to write me checks for $1 million dollars. I never asked him for $1 million dollars nor needed such; however, it was at a time when he had just gotten out of college, was making just enough to squeak by, and I think he just wished he had a million dollars. I’m pretty sure that he never had more than $356.98 in his checking account at any one time.

So, was that a love letter or a wishful financial thinking?



So, after 10 years, I finally opened the love letter kit tonight. In it there were 5 tiny note cards, 5 tiny envelopes, a stick of wax, a heart stamp wrapped up in a small faux velvet bag, which was tied in a bow, and a little book called “The Art of the Love Letter.”

The first chapter in the book was titled obviously enough “Introduction;” the first sentence read “A love letter is the most intimate correspondence a person can receive. Within its lines secret desires are revealed, promises given, and fond memories recalled. Written in elegant script on scented stationery or scrawled haphazardly on a scrap of paper, mailed from across the seas, hidden in a bouquet of roses, or tucked in between the papers of an album, a love letter is to be cherished always.”

Hmmm, I had some of it wrong; apparently, there was no "S.W.A.K-ing" in love letters.

The second chapter in the little book was “The History of Love Letters.” It said, “The love letter’s earliest manifestation may perhaps be the Bible’s Song of Solomon. Letter writing was furthered by Cicero and Pliny, turn-of-the-century Romans who affectionately wrote letters to their wives. In the tenth century, the Japanese were known to have written ‘morning after letters.’ A man would send a letter to his mistress, with whom he spent the night.”

Wow, a love letter for a one-night stand?! Since when? :-)

I was most interested in this chapter, “How to Write Love Letters.” It said, “Composing a love letter can seem intimidating or even ridiculous at first.”

Hell ya! I mean when was the last time we saw a published love letter from say Vanessa Hudgens to Zac Efron; obviously, some kids today are totally scared to death of the love letter but totally okay with groping in public. And, who let us get away with writing something like “Rose are red, violets are blue, love never crossed my mind until the day that I met you?!?!?”

My favorite sentence in this chapter was “Don’t be afraid to be funny. Humor has its place in love and it can be used to break the ice if you are initiating communication with someone you hardly know.”

Hmmm. What would this read like?

Dear Dunkin’ Donuts Drive-Thru Guy,

Every day you get me my peach iced tea, and you always put in just the right amount of Splenda and never forget my wedge of lemon. God, I love you so much for not screwing up my order!”

The final chapter is “Letters from the Past.” It said, “Long after lovers are gone, their letters remain. Within these pages are some of the most passionate, poetic, and poignant love letters that have ever been written, read, reread, treasured and saved forever.”

To Nicolas II: Never did I believe there could be such utter happiness in this world, such a feeling of unity between two mortal beings. I love you, those three worlds have my life in them. ~Alexandra

I love that one. And, after all this time, I can’t believe I saved Ernie’s cards and Robert’s checks. Perhaps, they weren’t love letters per say, but they were love.

When my Dad died, I found a whole box of my parent’s “love letters” from the time when they first started dating to right before they got married. During this time, my Mom was in nursing school at the now defunct Children’s Hospital School of Nursing in Boston, and my Dad was working on a newspaper, I believe, in Milwaukee.

My Mom wrote this “love letter” to my Dad on her nursing school apron! She wrote it from “Gardener House,” and it’s dated September 19, 1957. She was just about to graduate from nursing school.



Dear Dick,

Finished! Through! Out! Yipeee!!!

I’m all packed and ready to leave Gardener House for the last time. I’ve packing my writing paper too – therefore this note scrawled on my student apron bib. Last evening was my last working day as a STUDENT. It’s is a tradition of nursing to tear off the students uniform after the students last day of student work – last night I got it! [ed. Jeez, Mom, who knew you nurses were so wild; I hope, unlike Britney Spears, you were wearing underwear!] Two classmates met me in the cafeteria at Relief nurses coffee at 11pm and tore my rather well worn uniform to pieces. There I stood in my dainties with the tattered remains of my uniform scattered around. I had to steal a doctor’s lab coat from the out-patient department to wear back to Gardener House. At 12 midnight, we had a ceremony of throwing black stockings and shoes down the incinerator. Tomorrow is our white breakfast – then I work 9am-1pm in the white uniform – then 10 days vacation –working for pay!!!

We’re having a party right now. Everybody’s sitting on the hall floor drinking Chianti wine. Right now I’m feeling a little [ed. up arrow drawn here] – (HIGH) – will write more when more sober.

LOVE --RUTH

A little history on the School of Nursing, because remember, my blog is not only low in calories and high in fiber, but it’s educational, too!

http://www.childrenshospital.org/about/Site1394/Documents/HistoryTour%20brochure.pdf

The Gardener House was built in 1930 and was home to the School of Nursing through 1978. Nursing students often gathered in its elegant living room for high tea [ed. Or to get “high” on Chianti!).

So, I am going to write a love letter now to someone who I may or might not have met yet. And, here I go.

Dear snookiepiecutiewootiekins...

Yeah, I’m 47 and realistic. That’s never going to happen. Let me begin again.

Dear Juan Gerardo de la Fuente Tovar...

Okay, I got that name from the customer database at "work." That’s never going to happen either. I’m sorry, Juan. I don’t love you; I just love typing and saying your name!

Note To Tomasina: What if Juan googles himself some day and discovers that some [ed. crazy] woman has started a love letter to him in her blog. What will he think?!?!? I wonder, but then again, who cares!

Anyway, I was really only kidding about writing a love letter to someone here; after much thought, I think that I (and most women I know) really need to write myself a love letter every few months, no, more like EVERY month, err, no, maybe like even every day!

Whatever it is, and I’m not man bashing here, because I love you guys and then some, it seems that men are wired from the get go to like themselves a lot. Whereas, we women are constantly asking ourselves, "What's to like?" You look in the mirror and see nothing; we look in the mirror and see gray hairs, crow's feet, blemishes, and thousands of dollars in potential plastic surgery!

For a very long time, I mistook someone loving me as me loving myself. But, it really wasn’t and isn't. As I have said before, loving yourself should always come first. And, I do not mean it in a narcissistic way. I only mean that I really think you have to love yourself completely before you can truly love someone else.

Every night, when I kiss my daughter good night, I always say the same thing to her. “Good night. You are a smart and beautiful girl, and I love you.”

So, tonight, I wrote myself a love letter with my little kit. I wrote the little note, I stuffed it into the little envelope, and I addressed it to me; then I melted the wax, almost burning my finger off with the lighter while doing so, waiting for a nice big red wax blob to pool on the back of the envelope, and then I pressed the heart seal into it.



And, if you can’t actually write this note to yourself every once in a while, then always remember to say it to yourself every night. Love yourself! <3

P.S. Never fear, you lucky guy, you. I’ve got four little note cards and four little envelopes left, along with the wax, the stamp, and the book. You will get your letter one of these days, because I already wrote the most important one to myself tonight.

Yet Another Pearls Make You Classy Tangent:

My bike (before and after)



Rover (before and after), though note that pearls not only make Rover look classy, they take at least 7 people years off of her; at least, this is what I told her this afternoon!



Fire hydrant (before and after)



Blog soundtrack sandwich (this is the piece o' bread with the jelly on it):