February 20, 2013

• The Man Who Cannot Hug

  I should list the good things my mother in law did for me, how you could wash dishes with that material which was used a lot in can can slips or to make the white neeting for church hats or Easter bonnets.  I know that little, if anything, ever gets discarded, which is among the reasons I go through my things almost every year and send everything to a store which somehow serves mentally disabled persons down in the Mission area.  I admired that she would spend hours with our children to make the perfect thank you cards for the aunts who would give them little presents of money on their birthdays, and that she was able to amuse herself never spending a dime on a new piece of clothing, except she must have had to make at least one order of underwear in those 35 or so years, but I would not swear to that.

  Living in what was her house and is now ours sometimes makes my skin crawl, for I can see her, or I automatically do something just like her in the kitchen, but she and I were as different as if were a Queen of Hearts, and I had come out of the fields of China, a peasant, latched on to my husband’s leg one day and would not let him go. I would talk with her in the early mornings when I was nursing my babies, for she was always up between four and five, and the sound echoes in this house.  Were it empty, I think it might have less personality than a very large barn except or the view, for my pictures of a great remodel only came to pass in the kitchen which is as modern as most of years, but I did not have room for the pot filler feature, and a wine fridge was out, not such a deal in San Francisco, since there are very few ways of steaming head.

  My readers may remember this story, that on my very first visit, she informed me that this family does not hug, and I should have heard the words as cautionary, but my husband and I were so young then, I had no problems getting hugs, for it was something I never turned down, and only after about two or three children were born would I realize that all hugs ended in passion, and even if I was not in the mood for passion and the feel of my body fully given, this was usually the response, so I went along for years where I never felt under hugged, quite the contrary,  I do admit that I could make things happen with as much lust as the Madam or a house dedicated to the satisfaction of men, and if you were a 70s woman, then you know that was during the time of all the expert books from anything you were afraid to ask, to refreshing one’s techniques with a chaper from The kama Sutra, “Fear of Flying,” and who could forget Marlon Brandon and, “Last Tango In Paris.”  It was more free out here for the homo sexual crowd,  but for straight people it was a time of Testosterone flowing from ceilings, because, for the first time, a woman could put her arms around her man, for we had written permission to drive them to depths of desire they did not even know they had.  I hear lesbians talking a lot about, “Girl Power,” and I want sometimes to say that I am convinced that new sexuality was at its peak with men and women sharing heightened sexual awareness together, for women learned how, and we were not afraid to take our beautiful men to the stars, and we wanted to get there with them.

  We had rules — You will do nothing which hurts, and many of us found the greatest gift in sheere male superior sexual positions, for we are sort of built as such that fit is just right for reproduction — What we were born on this earth for in the first place, that we — the highest of the mammals, even us, we had a time and a season which went on somewhere around 28 years before women’s ovaries just were not going to put out those eggs any more, and most women are like cats in hear near periods of ovulation, for nature is saying, “Make us a baby,” and to say women are in peak child bearing years at age 27 may be text book, but you still are going to be contributing eggs for several more years after that, and I can say for certain a lot of women at 42 to 45, if careless or just baby hungry can wind up with little babies shrieking, “Milk Time,” enough to awaken the dead if they are not well protected from pregnancy.  We always like to have romantic evenings, and do we have phermones; We seem to, for our bodies perspire more, and genitalia naturally lubricates during child bearing years.  Surely you’ve noticed that lubricants get extra news time along with viagra on the evening news, for who watches the evening news.  We people who are older with time on our hands.  It is not geared to young people in heat, and that is for certain.

  But my mother in law said, “We do not hug in this family,”  and as the days of great passion have come in to days that are hardly yours to know about, but people getting older still make love, but things become planned, and the script is written, the understanding, and if you do not know what the person likes by this time, then you are probably out of the relationship anyway; but the idea of, “Hugs,” would haunt me, for I did not know how tragically my husband would fall in to the pathetic affection category with age, and he is indeed, a really ackward hugger; One quick arms around me, a brief kiss if we have not seen each other for awhile,  And, you get the picture that my over bearing mother in law was absolutely right.

  I have one male friend with whom we share lunch some times, and he is wonderfully taller than me, and has great arms.  He holds we closely, for I have known him for about 38 of my years, both of us in health care, and I find myself, not so much turning back in to the days of, “Last Tango,” but I just want him to hold me right there, so that I can hear his heart beat, and I can feel so very warm, but he is Methodist, and his Mama raised him to do the right thing, to let it go at that, but I can even remember other men who simply had this wonderful way of holding all of me in their arms, and you can believe it or not, but you could probably hand me an old coat of theirs, and I could pick who it belonged to, way back when, blindfolded.

  So if you are young and in love, and note that most hugs are associated with sex, then meet their Mothers, find out about the loving ways of the family, and if your mother in law tells you; “We are not a hugging family,” ou need to then you need to decide then and there what you are willing to live with those other years of your life.  But you listen, and remember my story,  and unless you’re comfortable with zero romanticism after the season of youth have faded, then you just might want to file your nails, look up at the moon and stars which will still be the same ones shining down when health is failing, when aches just happen, and when you go to sleep – Yes think about it, and talk with your loved one about the cold family way and that is upsetting.  If he can hold you in his arms, and make you feel like you want to crawl in to his waiting arms forever, then you may have lucked out.

  If he breezes over it, and does not want to embarrass Mom too much by holding you in his arms or holding your hands with people around, then you just might want to polish those nails and hit the road.  You cannot change the person, but you can make a more informed choice.  We had the babies, and we take care of each other in sickness or health, but I am missing out on another special part of growing older.  I also will see his mother comin g out of walls, mending in the kitchen, or bringing us in her parlor on auntie visit day, so I love with the warning, and I walked the path thus far, so I am not apt to start looking for anything else at this point, so I count the other gifts, marvel at the first blooms of springtime and remember the hours when we were both on fire.

  Barbara Everett Heintz, “
  “Pinkhoneysuckle.” Book on Amazon and Kindle — Pinkhoneysuckle, The Blog onXanga
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