An insight gleaned from Daiva’s Month of Friendly Love—when you write about people, you begin to feel closer to them. You even begin to have imaginary conversations with them (at least I do.) I noticed this as well in writing about my husband in what I hope to be my next book—a memoir about love and Scrabble, tentatively called Love and Sextiles. On the days I write about Marty, I am more patient and loving, ignoring things that would have irritated me in the past. Of course, there are people I don’t wish to feel closer to, which is why I don’t write about them. These include friends who are two-faced, angry Lithuanians, Rick Santorum, and anyone from the cast of Jersey Shore.
Speaking of my husband, it’s his sixtieth birthday. Because he’s a Leap Year baby, he’s only fifteen. He is the light of my life, the fire of my….oops, the wind beneath my wings, the moon beneath my sun, the water above my head, etc. etc.
I’m grateful for /to Rachel Panepinto, who gave me the idea of writing about someone you like during the month of February. Rachel was a student of mine years ago when I was director of the Writing Center and she was a graduate assistant. She was the kind of student every teacher dreams of having: very smart, inquisitive, hard-working, and polite. Today she is one of our best teachers here at her own alma mater—Eastern Illinois University.
Aw, gee. Thanks.
And I agree about writing making you feel closer to people. I’ve been amazed this month at how many people I have in my life whom I really am fond of. Of whom I really am fond? That’s an awkward and ugly construction either way.
Anyhow, I usually think of myself as a curmudgeonly sort, but as it turns out, I’m pretty love-y.