When someone says,”I love you” it is decision time, isn’t it?  Do you remember the first time you uttered those words to someone who wasn’t your mother?  Did you mean it? Did you understand what you meant? 

In the days when I was young and Neanderthal still walked the face of the planet, children exchanged Valentine cards with only children they liked.  At least that is how the “popular” kids played the game.  The rest of the group gave Valentines to everyone hoping against hope that someone “important” would give them a Valentine in return.  Every so often someone was surprised by a welcomed secret admirer.  What bliss to be paid attention by a perceived superior.  Bragging rites belonged to the one who received something more than “From: Jane” etched in pencil.  Hearts would soar and dreams suddenly bore the promise of reality with those three little words.

I remember the first time I told a girl I loved her.  I was at a party with my girlfriend, my best friend and his girlfriend.  He and I were talking sports and the girls bounced up, looked us straight in the eyes and said the magical phrase.  I was stunned, but managed to utter the appropriate reply without too disappointing a pause.  My much wiser friend kept his mouth shut.  The girls giggled, whispered into each other’s ears and ran off to join a larger group.

“What were you thinking?” my friend growled.  “You don’t tell a girl you love her unless you mean it.”

I did mean it, sort of. I at least meant it now that my buddy thought I was an idiot.  I wasn’t about to admit that I had not thought my response through or was in any way giddy that a girl said she loved me.  I couldn’t admit that level of uncool.   The internal conflict raged between the recognition that I really did not know what I was getting myself into, and the primordial desire to be loved by a girl.

Decades are now passed since that day and I am still learning to love.  For many love is some sort of chemical reaction, a biological response.  For others love is a philosophical commitment, a choice of will.  Others don’t believe such a thing even exists.  For me love is the basis of all I know.  Love is my only hope and being loved is my only salvation.

Who this love is and how this love is, will be the occupation of my friends at Main Street this month.