PS I Love You

My wife is from Spain, she shares growing up stories with me that are so different than my own.  We also sometimes stumble on interesting cultural disparities that, when looked at more deliberately, renders something worthy of discussion.

  The pivotal point here is when she observed that we Americans often end our phone conversations with ‘I love you’ with family. She asked “Why, do you say that so often? Don’t you already know that?”  I told her, yes but sometimes we say that under the possibility that the conversation may be the last time we talk with them; that it would be comforting to know we conveyed our love.  She acknowledged that was a very sweet sentiment, but that she didn’t seem to believe people actually put much, if any, meaning behind saying that.  She sensed that it had lost its power, and became a substitute for just ending a conversation on a good note.

  I recognized her point of view as being more common than I would like to admit.  I’ve read of situations where some men brought flowers home on Friday nights like clockwork.  Initially the wife was thrilled, then soon learned it was just a personal ritual.  Where the first blush of believing he was thinking of her turned into a habit absent of any real endearing intent, and just something he did because someone told him that was what he should do when he was married. 

  It developed in my mind that saying “I love you” often does not have nearly the impact as being uttered by a lover occasionally.  Now I’m not proposing to stop saying I love you as a solution to the de-valuing of the term, but rather this.  Cherish the expression as an authentic singular emotional expression. Something where “I love (noun)” can obscure the meaning so much we can’t tell what that really means?  Where the notion was a proclamation as something sincerely dear, turns into something that has to be figured out as residing between loving cakes, kittens and/or gardening.

   Not too long ago I read an article in which the author suggested something men could do to convey their love to their wives.  It was unusually simple and insanely creative. It was to have lunch with them during the work week. The giving of his time was far greater than a truck load of roses.  Why?  Because the wife knew how precious his working time was. When he would put all of that on hold to spend an hour in the middle of his busy schedule with his sweetheart, well he instantly reclaimed the lover of all time in her eyes.  Is that precious? A single hour?

  What made it valuable was the intent. He had to make an effort, and it had to be sincere and authentic.  We know authentic when we get it as sure as we can identify the smell of oranges in our presence.  Just as surely, we can also tell when ‘I love you’ is contrived.

Wealth

The environment of our wealth is to fear bandits.

 What a sad state of affairs;

in the bosom of lack,

there is only hope for better. 

But in the land of plenty, 

dreams are mostly of dread; 

where hopes are to avoid,

or, at the very least,

contain loss.

And can you believe it

People want to move here

Goes to show

There are many kinds of hunger

That which waste the body

That which waste the soul

Cosmic Rays Siphoning Time

Crazy Right? My wife and I were just agreeing on the sensation of time speeding up after looking at the clock and it was noon.  We’re up before seven every day.  We have breakfast, walk the dog and go to the gym. So am I to believe those piddley tasks take five hours?  Heart transplant surgery usually takes only four hours (baring complications of course), that’s WITH opening the chest cavity.  Liver surgery five hours to 8-9, so OK we’re approaching the equivalent arena of major organ replacement surgery is the point I am making.

  Now the details are obscure, of course, as is the nature of all successful burglaries, so then we must revisit (or visit for the first time) the nature of Cosmic Rays and how much we don’t know what they’re up to.  Science tells us that most cosmic rays are the by-product of solar fusion/fission, both from our own sun, and through the magic of galactic gravity, energy coming to our planet from all the cosmos. This is convenient setting for the theft. Since we don’t know where the rays come from, we can’t effectively slam the unlocked door on the culprits.  So the fast moving one percent of cosmic rays that do not obey the speed limits of our atmosphere blow through the atoms in our air and go directly into the ocean floor sands.  The impact drives the sands up into the undulating surf to be washed onto the shores. And, as anyone can tell you, time is the sand within our hour glasses. 

  So then, cosmic rays make sand move, which in turn speeds up sand, that is equivalent to time, and then it is secretly siphoned away from the atmosphere where it is harvested unseen to our observable universal detecting devices; for reasons beyond my or your comprehension.  I have a gut suspicion it is for viewing old I love Lucy episodes by alien races so they can unravel the mysteries of our humor...or governments, which is of course is to be redundant.  I have no evidence to cite for my conclusion; it’s just what several shots of Everclear keeps whispering into my foggy cognition whenever I wonder where has all the time gone?