We are slowly approaching Valentine's Day- yes the day of romance and declaring one's love to the top of the highest mountain and other wonderful attributes ( well nowadays it seems that chocolates and cards will be just as much) and also a day for those single ladies such as myself, to have a fun time with good company and making it a fun "me" day. No one is left out and all will have cake.
As usual, I found myself listening to old jazz tunes or music from the Golden Age as I called it. I'm such an old soul- I love music from the 20's to the 50's and adore everything from the way people dressed down to the love of the radio back in the day where programs were enlightening and entertaining, and where going to the cinema meant seeing actors like Grace Kelly and Cary Grant light up the silver screen.
In a sense, I felt that love was more precious and magical back then, given tragic events such as war which many endured the effects of, and it seems that time and life itself was not to be taken granted.
While listening to Vera Lynn's "We'll Meet Again" on YouTube, I have the habit of reading all the comments before I start watching whatever it is that I am watching, and then begin the song.
One story which someone had commented, really touched my heart in a way where it pains me that such moments are indeed left in the past, and the urge to return to such moments is very real:
"Watching my father in uniform and my mother in her best dress walk out onto the dance floor , the music started and they flowed like a soft breeze. The next four years Mom danced with my aunts and and other ladies and they all sang and laughed . The men were gone and I never really understood the stresses of the times but I did know things would somehow work out. When it was over and my Dad came home, the block parties must have gone on for months and there they were , dancing to every tune."
He then goes on to say:
"In that generation, gratification was not instantaneous, nor was it expected. They waited for it, it was the wait that generated the thrill and when it finally arrived, it was really a thrill. Today we say its not better or worse, its different. I guess we all get very used to our comfort zone. But, I remember very clearly those days during the war, holding my Mothers hand waiting on long lines to get a small bag of sugar. Sugar in coffee was a thrill for Mom."
In a sense, I feel sad how it seems that today, no one seems to get a real thrill out of the smallest but most beautiful things- I know without a doubt that some of you readers are like me and are passionate in life and for the grandest moments that can often be simple moments- so to hear such a wonderful and very touching story which happened to someone very real, is truly inspiring.
I remember when there was that great big Blackout that occurred a few years ago in August, how the whole street seemed to take part in a huge BBQ as all the meat would have gone spoiled, and so everyone was just dropping by, people laughing and chatting, kids were playing with one another.
I felt a strange sense of happiness in taking pleasure that this is such a first for everyone- that it took the elimination of electricity to bring people together and the degree of interaction was surprising.
That evening, I'll never forget how bright the Moon looked, it's light poured on top of the rooftops and on the streets- illuminating everything. Everyone was outside on the lawn chairs, my sister and I lying on the grass, bathing in this quiet splendor.
And with love, I think I will always be such a hopeless romantic. There needs to be more of a Keatsian love in this lifetime, for we only have but one life to live.
Joie de vivre,
Note: images via weheartit