Tag Archives: love

BEST Friend.

March 9, 2025Uncategorizedfaith, family, life, love, relationshipsruth ann scanzillo

When I was about 10, I met a girl through my family’s church association who would grow to mean alot to me. For decades, I called her one of my two best friends.

To me, she met the definition because I enjoyed how and what we did together. It appeared, to me, that we had similar interests and outlook. We could talk, about anything, and our shared understanding was immediate. I thought she enjoyed my company, and most of the children I met at school did not. So, though we lived a few miles apart in different states I began to choose her company as frequently as life allowed.

Many decades later, I would discover that everything about how I assigned human value to her was a mirage. She became apparently so able to summarily discard me. So deep was the devaluing that it created pain in me and so profound was the pain that I, for my own emotional survival, had to completely extract from all association with her.

So much is said in our society about the importance of human connection. Seniors especially are constantly being reminded that relationships are what generate both physiological health and longevity. But, people fail one another. They use each other, sometimes without even realizing this is happening. One becomes surrogate for the one missing in another’s realm; he or she appears to be giving to another when, in actuality, that one is being treated as a mere convenience – a seat filler, or place holder – while the first awaits the appearance of the object of their true affections. In our own most authentic moments, we are forced to admit that we have done this ourselves to those who likely care very much for us.

There is so much about the life we have been given to live that remains a mystery, even into old age when one would expect to have achieved insight and wisdom. At any moment, pain is possible. So is joy, even if purely imagined.

Though I am well past the age of 10 now, I hope that my own life can bring grace and hope to even one other person. Ideally, that person will be someone for whom I feel love. But, such a convergence is both rare, and precious. So often, I have observed others experiencing this gift instead of myself, and continue to wonder why. I witness and recognize two people loving each other equally, so I know it to be possible; but, more often, I see inequities and have only experienced these, personally. Perhaps my own structural misalignment predilects me toward imbalanced relationships. Could there be a lesson inherent in these, I wonder? if so, God teach me.

Be good to yourself, first. To me, this means getting out of bed each day and asking your body and mind what you can do to self nourish. Most importantly, do this without adding another actor to the scene. Become your own best friend. There just might be joy, in your relationship – with yourself.

Copyright 3/9/2025 Ruth Ann Scanzillo littlebarefeetblog.com All rights those of the author, whose name appears above this line. Thank you for respecting original material.

The Wine Glass.

June 6, 2020grief, love, original poetry, Uncategorizedlove, love lost, love triangles, original poetry, unrequited loveruth ann scanzillo

The wine glass sat on the countertop

White wine bottle beside

Each half full like a theater prop

Waiting for groom and bride.

But no one there took sup of the cup

A thief was due at dawn

Neither bride nor groom were in the room

Now the bottle, and the glass

Are gone.

littlebarefeetblog.com

Vitality.

November 14, 2019brain research, commentary, health and wellness, human behavior, love, personal ads, psychology, relationships, social behavior, social commentary, sociology, truth, Uncategorizedattraction, attraction between seniors, being attracted, chemistry, love, pheromones, post-menopause, relationships, vitalityruth ann scanzillo

Lately, the whole topic of what constitutes attraction has been pounding away at my not- so subconscious.

Always having been among those who appreciated beauty in nature I have, however, been known to become madly infatuated with certain humans who do not possess what has historically been termed “conventional” good looks; namely, that excruciatingly high standard of physical symmetry has never been the prerequisite in order for me to become irresistibly attracted.

Science has since pretty much, to coin a phrase, proved out the reason why. They’re called pheromones, first discovered in the mink, I believe, and now found to be present near the human nostril. Much like a hormone, as if we didn’t already have enough of these, this one governs the law of attraction; if male pheromones sniff out female, the chemistry is a lock and so are the two hapless victims.

In my personal post-fertile years, though the poundage has remained relatively stable and the skin tone in a holding pattern I have noted a marked drop in the number of looks and/or advances from the opposite sex. Perhaps the absence of pheromones provokes a flat facial expression in place of the former, manic radiance of “come hither”-ness, the ready laughter at the slightest quip, the tendency to reach out and touch. Whichever the case, these pesky little chemicals are sleeping it off, and most of the time I feel secretly grateful to be free to go about my business with a new clarity of lucid purpose.

But, enter the potential for a lasting partnership, perhaps those first couple dates. Is there something else, beyond the chemical, which gives the older girl a reason?

I have to call it vitality.

My father possessed this feature. The bound in his step, the lilt in his voice, the unmedicated, natural light in his eyes. The nimble quickness. And, his skin.

He spent most of his time outdoors, from age 50 to the end, training for these crazy marathons at high noon. But, he downed gallons of water, never a drop of drink or a single puff, and ate wholly, rejecting all processed refined sugars and sodium, even eliminating white flour years before everyone knew why this was a good thing, and his skin glowed. The color was warm, moist, sunned without burning, lined without sagging. Everything about him had rebound all over it. He was vitally alive.

Perhaps we have an instinct for that which we seek. We are in search of our kind, our complement, in my case the one who honors health and wellbeing. We want more life, and we yearn for someone who teems with it.

Dad remained vibrant, engaging, winsome, and endearing until the final months of his 95 years. If my body keeps waking up every morning, I hope to sustain even half of his brand of vitality. And, maybe there’s one more man out there like him. I’ll take another deep breath, and hope.

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