And, to the title I might add that I’m not looking for an antidote. But before you jump to any conclusions, let me say that I probably don’t define romantic as any dictionary or thesaurus does; well, maybe I would agree that I’m a bit fanciful because I don’t always look at life the way it is but as the way I wish it could be. Perhaps being a romantic is longing for an era that was slower, less hectic, less technological. I don’t think being a romantic means refusing to accept reality but it may be wishing the reality were softened a bit by more gentleness, more caring and insight, more putting oneself in another’s shoes.
At least one of the Cozy Critiquers has the wonderful ability to put herself in another’s place. She can see someone plowing a field and immediately feel the motion of the tractor, see the shiny earth peel away from the plow, and smell the freshness of a spring morning. Now, she herself isn’t sitting on that tractor seat but she feels as if she is there. That, to me, is being a tad bit romantic. It is also rare and the mark of a good writer. I think it’s a gift God gave her.
I miss the old-time movies I saw as a girl. The heroines dressed modestly but oh so attractively. The heroes were strong and valiant but also gentle. And of course, the hero and heroine loved each other. The old-time movies had no graphic words or pictures. What is often portrayed as love and romance nowadays is far from it. I liked the candlelight, the soft music, the fact that the heroine was cherished and cared for. As I said, incurably romantic.
Maybe being romantic is being a bit wistful, sort of not at home in a loud, noisy, fast-paced technological world. Maybe that’s why I write cozy mysteries and poetry and now and then a really tear-jerker of a song. But, hey! That’s just me. So I’ll share with you a poem I wrote many years ago that was picked up, believe it or not, by a romance magazine:
Love’s Garden
Your face with its lines of laughter and living,
Your hands, strong and big yet gentle and giving,
Still stir and kindle a warming glow
In the heart you won so long ago.
The sunny-day laughter, the rainy-day tears,
Warmed and watered this harvest of years
That ripened and mellowed and caused to grow
The love and affection that you and I know.
–Blanche Day Manos
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