When you are in the wedding business, it’s easy to start taking love for granted. We forget that it’s love that initiates everything in the first place. Sometimes our clients act like they may have momentarily forgotten that love is the reason that they are riding on this roller-coaster called wedding planning.
Well, wake up and remember – love matters! So, whether you are a week away from your big wedding day, recently engaged or happily married for years – write a love letter! Write a love letter to your parent, your sibling or the friend who is your rock of support. Do it today. Here are a few Wedding Words of Wisdom™.
Step 1: Go to the stationery store and find some beautiful paper. He (or she) is certainly worthy of this little bit of extra care, don’t you think?
Step 2: Get inspired to express what’s in your heart.
Step 3: Enjoy writing your love letter!
Just in case you are doubting our advice, read the article below – you’ll get it!
Love Is a Many-Splintered Thing
How did a heartfelt expression of affection turn into the moral equivalent of ‘See ya’?
By JIM SOLLISCH
A few years ago, when my kids were in their late teens, I started noticing something funny. They started telling me they loved me all the time. Every phone call and text ended with “I love you,” or “Love ya.”
I was suspicious. What were they up to? Was Zack about to ask for a new phone? Was Max going to tell me he planned to drop out of college to become a tattoo artist?
Or did they just love me so much they couldn’t stop telling me? Hope was defeating skepticism until I heard my daughter Zoey end a cellphone conversation with, “OK, bye, I love you.”
I thought maybe she had a new boyfriend I didn’t know about. I asked her who she’d been talking to. “Just a friend,” she responded.
The more I paid attention, the more I heard those three magic words. The boys restricted the “Love ya” sign off to female friends and relatives. The girls to anyone who wasn’t a solicitor. They even said “I love you” when they ended conversations with girls I knew they didn’t particularly like. To them, “Love ya” was the new “See ya.” Three of the most powerful words in the English language reduced to nothing more than a nod.
When I told my father I loved him, I can tell you it wasn’t at the end of an ordinary conversation about nothing on a day that was like every other day. The act of saying those words out loud to my father changed the light in the room and turned the air electric.
But I didn’t talk to my father every day. I didn’t have a mobile phone. We didn’t text each other several times a day. We weren’t Facebook friends.
We were extremely close, though, and spent more time together than most fathers and sons. We always kissed and hugged when we saw each other. There was real love and tenderness in those embraces. But the very scarcity of our expressions made each one of them seem more valuable, more real.
It’s become commonly accepted that Facebook has cheapened the currency of friendship. But I think the slope is more slippery than we might have suspected. I think we’ve degraded love a bit, too, in this age of constant communication.
It isn’t uncommon for parents to text or talk to their college-age children dozens of times a day. But the more we communicate, the less it seems we have to say. Sherry Turkle, a psychologist and professor at M.I.T. and the author of “Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other,” points out that digital communication, especially texting, limits our ability to carry on conversations. The currency of texting is speed, and to get faster answers, we ask simpler questions. We turn conversation into a series of data-point exchanges. There is no time for the murky exploration of feelings. The result is a deep-seated loneliness.
And maybe one of the ways we combat this sense of loneliness is to accumulate friends and sign off our digital dispatches with “I love you.” How can we be lonely with 1,100 friends? How can we be lonely when we “love” dozens and dozens of people?
So clearly the words “I love you” muttered at the end of a phone call or thumbed at the end of a text aren’t a big deal anymore.
That’s OK. Things change. When I was a kid, going out to eat was a big deal. Now people eat out all the time. When I went to college in the 1970s, calling home was a big deal. I had to wait in line for the pay phone in the basement of the dorm I lived in to call my parents collect. An actual human operator brokered the deal. Demand was high and supply low. Today, it’s just the opposite.
So in this age of ubiquitous communication and superficial expression, how can we make the expression of love a big deal again? The answer is to go back to the future. Write someone a note or letter. On actual paper or stationery. You may find that you’ve forgotten how to form letters, but just forge ahead—it’s like riding a bike. You may find that “Love ya” looks a little naked against the blank stationery, so say something else. Be specific if possible. That should do the trick.
It did for me. On my last birthday, each of my kids took the time to write me. They brought out pens like my mother used to bring out her mother’s china to mark an important event. In handwriting I hadn’t seen in years, they did more than say “I love you.” They counted the ways. And I knew, beyond a doubt, that they loved me more than they love their 1,100 friends.
Mr. Sollisch is a writer in Cleveland.
A version of this article appeared August 21, 2012, on page A11 in the U.S. edition of The Wall Street Journal, with the headline: Love Is a Many-Splintered Thing.