Love is many things. But more than anything it is a disturbance of the digestive system—Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

Love in Alaska, batting the flies.

Love changes over time, and after being married for 28 plus years, it continues to evolve.

My Valentine to you readers, is to share these observations:

The first blush of love is romantic. It is about discovery, lust and uncertainty. Everything is high and low; everything is possible. It defines, creates and destroys. There is no middle ground. It is riding a roller coaster, it is diving off the cliffs of La Quebrada; it is divine.

With time, love becomes an instrument to accomplish goals. There are promises that a couple has made together or separately, that through love become successful, diminished or slowly worn away. Raising a family, establishing a livelihood, running a household, and building a life together, all constitute this path. Romance may dull, but other surprises occur such as children, that give unimaginable joy and unbelievable sorrows to either support your love or tear it apart, bit-by-bit.

If children are a part of this love, upon their departure, comes the search for love to be rediscovered and renewed. There are different needs and new challenges to be defined and shared. What was it that you once saw in each other, what goals do you now have in common, how have each of you changed, grown apart, grown closer? Sometimes love leaves with the children, and each must go their own way.

Should we choose to rediscover love, it takes great work. We become, doubtful, irritable and non-compromising in our dissatisfaction, before we even recognize that love has fled. There are no guarantees that one can regain it.  Then again, sometimes with great effort, love can surprisingly reappear; that is when you know miracles happen.

This love is sweeter than the first. Because of time, you know what your lover is going to say by a look on their face. You can predict how some discussions and arguments will begin and end. You learn even more about caring and compassion. You chose to stay or leave and find that as each day has a sunrise and sunset, love is also cyclical.

Boleros, trovas de amor, are not about happiness. Boleros reflect love’s perplexities. Within the tune, the lyrics tell of sorrow, loss and betrayal, as well as compassion, joy and love’s endurance. And now, here is a love song for you.

Historia de Un Amor

Family matters. It gives us nourishment, a sounding board, guidance and support. The list goes on.

But it also gives us tzouris (Yiddish for troubles), anger and grief. Complicated.

The above title refers to genetic connection, but today’s world paints a broader picture. For this I am thankful. Although I’m blessed to have almost daily connection with my brothers, sisters, nieces, mother, children and more, I do not consider them all of my family.

My family is cultural, political, philosophical and spiritual. That basically crosses almost all of humankind. Perhaps that sentiment is a byproduct of our ever-widening connections into the world. I prefer to think about the possibilities for peaceful conflict resolution if I can always see my family as simply, the human race.

Being in animal-loving Austin now for so long, even my dogs are part of my family. My friends have dogs or cats that are family members. They are sentient beings, so why not? They provide love, comfort, solace and support to many people who do not have traditional family connections.

When I crossed into England, The Nederlands, France and Spain, I found my family there too. My family are people who seek out adventure, travel, love, trust and passionate about what they are do with their lives. My family are musicians, my family are those who carry compassion, and love humor. In my family there are no colors, but rainbow, no ages, but youthful spirits, no politics, but that of working cooperatively.

Family is understandably important, but they do not always understand their importance.

As the saying goes, “You can’t live with them, and you can’t live without them.”

Well, you could. But your life would be much less, ah colorful.

Spending the last month traveling abroad in search of sharing boleros and seeking music, during the holiday season, I not only abandoned my family, (while seeking other family members, I might add) but was ofttimes vacationing with everyone else’s family. Ay, Dios mio!

To add fuel to the proverbial yuletide fire, I spent Christmas, New Year’s Eve AND my birthday while traveling abroad. And although I was taken out for a sumptuous dinner in Vigo, Spain,  by a dear friend (and her son, naturally), I returned home to a conspicuous lack of birthday phone messages by a couple of family members.

Oh let me pause for just a moment to recollect what a free spirit I am. My unfettered pop philosophy is that once you are connected to a person, you’ve no need to call them on a regular basis.

If you speak with them once a month, or only once in your lifetime, you are always connected in spirit. This works quite well in theory, but if everyone doesn’t have the same perspective, what then?

My closest friends have all experienced this free flowing concept that works well for me, and they still maintain their love and  understanding for who I am. Those who don’t understand, well I fret about it a lot, then try my best to explain this theory.  I realize that it must be trying at times to others.

Family Matters

Some family members also have a hard time adjusting to this laissez faire attitude. They EXPECT more. Many times I can please them, but then again, with my lack of traditional convention, there are slip ups.

You reap what you sow, even in today’s digital world. So if am to leave the country, on my birthday, no less, how can I expect to be remembered? Doesn’t much appear as if I care, why else leave during this time of traditional togetherness?

The older I become, the more I recognize the value in these time honored adages, but even now I sometimes can’t understand why I can’t have my cake and eat it too. Maybe I’m still from the era where women thought they could do, and have, it all.

And so, I to ponder the yin and yang of everyday life.

Caught between the yes and the no, the give and the take, the struggle that represents the silly human condition.

Just when I think I have it all figured out, I find I’m looking at the doughnut, (not the hole) or maybe not looking at the (whole) doughnut, or maybe, (holy) cow, you’ve really got a  (hold) on me, (musical reference duly noted).

Maybe the best thing is to keep it simple, and just be thankful for family, whatever the travels or travails.

We were in a foreign land, together 24/7, no break. Months had passed since we’d had quality time together, and it was a challenging adjustment. Nonstop togetherness can be like consuming a bag of thin mints without regard to moderation; too much of a good thing. I was beginning to feel an ache in my lower abdomen. Was this a tummy ache or the beginning of an ulcer?

Over the past 28 years, we’d developed a few ways to get us through the rough patches. A Mexican and a Jew, both of us born with an unlimited supply of strong opinions, both relishing giving these opinions to others. However, the old adage “opposites attract” sometimes take the form of  “you say potato, I say potatoe”. Our fate, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, is to always be on the edge of a passionate discussion. Okay, maybe even an argument. Rules for conflict resolution are kept to a minimum.

In my opinion, here are the rules:

Rule No 1: Identify the conflict

Rule No 2: Call timeout (Gains objectivity, acknowledges/ identifies feelings.)

Rule No 3: Discuss the conflict (Ideas are exchanged to work towards a civilized end.)

Well, as you might guess, a conflict was brewing during our recent travels. To further complicate matters, dinner was being made in a couple of hours by our gracious hosts. After a brief snarl, we decided to go straight to Rule No. 3, while the embers of mental anguish were still hot to the touch.

I made the suggestion that since I had to put on makeup and dry my hair, and he had previously expressed a desire to soak in a hot tub, (bathroom providing a nice quiet space away from prying ears), we both agreed. I entered the bathroom moments after my sweetheart entered the tub. Having a hold on my electric curling iron, and seeing his vunerable body in the tub was just too much for me.

“Would you care to plug this in for me?” I asked with a smile on my face. “Let me bring you an extension cord dear.” We began our conflict resolution with humor, our mediator.

Afterwards: This posting is based upon actual events. Both parties maintain a different version of this event, and are alive today to share their version upon request.