The Real Irish Blessing: Love, Food, Diapers

We went to a wedding in Minnesota this weekend, 50-something friends whose magnetic Irish genes, love of music, and appreciation for a good yarn (the blarney kind, not the spun wool kind) pulled them together.

During the wedding, I got to hold the couple’s newborn granddaughter, Layla because, well, I’m pushy and just took her, and because I ADORE babies. The sheer miracle of a baby makes me weepy and weak-kneed, and I would probably be popping out #13 or #14 of my own by now had I not discovered shortly after after my third was already here that ALL humans turn 16 eventually.

Off-topic: Looking for fool-proof planned parenthood education & motivation? Instead of having junior high kids carry around little mechanical dolls to babysit for 24 hours, have them be totally responsible—physically, morally, financially—for a real 16-year-old for a week. Voila.

As I jiggled baby Layla, I had an epiphany about the simplicity of the human condition: we all just want food, someone to love us, and someone willing to change our diaper (the most intimate expression of love).

Think about it. Wars over land? Food. Religious wars? Someone to love us (god/God) and possibly someone willing to change our diaper (god/God). Marital strife? Jealousy? Greed? Lust? Fear of old age? Love, food, food, love, diaper. Facebook? Sex? Petty crime? Love, diaper, food.

I could see this triad at work the next day at the wedding dance, too. At least six groups of musicians played over the course of the day. These men (and a couple of women) in their 50’s and 60’s rocked, polka’d, or reeled out, some reliving memories of their glory days, some musically reconnecting with old friends they hadn’t seen in ages. And I know it’s about the music, but that little craving to perform seems also to be a craving for love.

While the bands played, we party-goers were busy worker ants, marching single file to and from an endless supply of amazingly delicious cakes—table to chocolate cake to table to white cake to table to carrot cake. Food. Okay, maybe love too—it IS cake, after all.

On this joyous occasion of two human beings finding each other amid the chaos, it became clear to me that the happy couple had, like Ray and I, been blessed with a social arrangement that provides each partner with the basic three: FOOD (income, cooking skill, the good sense to come home with take-out every now & then), SOMEONE TO LOVE US, and SOMEONE WILLING TO CHANGE A DIAPER (our baby’s initially and, more importantly, our own eventually).

Off-topic: If life really comes to down to these three basic needs, we should be thrilled and grateful for any adult—straight, crooked, gay, lesbian, mentally challenged, transgendered, gender-reassigned, old wrinkly women, ancient crotchety men, even English teachers—lucky enough to find another human being willing to help provide for those needs. Thinking we can dictate who provides for whom is really just jockeying for power & control, which is really just fear & insecurity that maybe we won't find enough love for ourselves.

Off-topic note to young people: Roll your eyes, snicker, and pooh-pooh the old geezers while you can. But know that Depends are in your future, too, and then, lemme tell you, it won’t be about career, philosophy, politics, religion, or technology. It won’t matter how fast you can text or how you look in a tube top. When you’re old (or middle aged, cuz I already FEEL like this some days), it’ll be all about whether or not you can lie back, look up at the ceiling, and smile & coo like baby Layla. And THAT will all depend (yuk yuk) on love. And food. And a clean diaper.

(art by Jane Duke, http://www.janeduke.com/)