My Love Song, Not Fancy or Fine

Unless you have been living in a cave, you are no doubt already aware that another Valentine's (aka Singles' Awareness) Day is fast approaching.

Valentine's Day is one of those holidays that, in the past, I have often endured rather than looked forward to or celebrated. A large part of that is due to the fact that there has rarely been someone else with whom to celebrate the holiday. Even so, I try to be cautiously optimistic each new year and hope it will be the exception rather than the rule.


I know I'm not the only one who doesn't look forward to Valentine's Day. I can see why a lot of people look at it as a reminder that they're alone, they're missing somebody, and/or they are not with somebody. In the last few days, I have heard far more people make reference to the fact that the next week includes Presidents' Day (and, therefore, a three-day weekend) than I have heard talk about Valentine's Day and getting excited for that.

Then again, maybe I have been part of or have been eavesdropping on the wrong kinds of conversations.

All kidding aside, I have recently been reading a book titled Uh-Oh by Robert Fulghum. (You may remember that name; he also wrote All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.) Like his other, more-famous book, Uh-Oh contains a series of vignettes and short stories about everyday life - Chicken Soup for the Soul-type stuff - as observed through the eyes of Mr. Fulghum. In one of the chapters I came across recently, he relates a handful of love stories that he has observed or been part of over the course of his life. None of these stories is particularly earth shattering or worthy of a Lifetime movie, per se, but, rather they are all tiny tidbits and subtle moments, such as the lady who smiled at him from across a crowded diner.

I don't know that I've experienced what anyone might call a love story - at least not in the sense that a movie might portray. I'm in my 30s and am still single, and I haven't come close to being engaged. (Then again, you may get a different response if you ask one or two of the girls I've dated.) But, if you use Mr. Fulghum's definition of love stories, then I guess I've been lucky enough to witness a few.


For one, my parents have a picture of me, back when I was five or six years old, with my arm around a cute little girl about my age. I don't know who she was, what has become of her, where the picture was taken, or why my arm was around her, but I have to smile whenever I think about it. (If I can find the picture, I promise I will scan it and add it to this post.)

In elementary school, one of my first crushes was a girl named Anne, who was in my class. I loved to play jacks back then, and I remember finding excuses to play several games of jacks with her - sometimes letting her win.

In Peru, my companion and I taught the discussions to a man named Julio Gonzales - as we sat in the back seat of his taxi cab. His girlfriend, Melinda, referred him to us in the hope that he would join the Church. Flash forward a few years, and, out of the blue, Melinda calls me on the phone one night, obviously crying with joy, because she and Julio have just been sealed in the temple for time and all eternity.

There is also the girl I dated one summer who worked in the Lion House kitchen and would often bring me leftover/extra pieces of cheesecake. It was through her that I learned that the saying that "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach" has some bona fide merit to it.

A few years ago - and I promise that this is the last story, for now - my bishop spoke in elders quorum and invited all of the single elders to pass out Valentines to the single girls of the ward. I took his advice and, on Valentine's Day, spent several hours visiting several girls in the ward, some of whom I hadn't even spoken to before then, passing out Valentines (I think they had Mickey Mouse on them or something). No, I didn't find anyone to date due to this experience. But I did make a lot of new friends.


Well, I've bared my soul a little bit today, and, honestly, it feels pretty good.