Who loves you, baby?
Kojak was an American TV show that ran from 1973-1978, ending right before I was born. It starred Telly Savales, a Greek-American actor whose last name, to my childhood ears, was closer to Spanish and therefore closer to me. My only memories of him are faint, the scraps of phantoms that drape over most early childhood memories.
One thing I always remembered was his catch phrase: “Who loves ya, baby?” I was raised in a family that took the Bible very seriously, and usually literally; I tended to do the same with all language. Kojak’s “Who loves ya, baby?” was not only obviously rhetorical, but it was obviously sweet, too. You don’t ask a question you already know the answer to unless you think there’s some meaning in the other person hearing it, or saying it. I liked characters who let you figure it out for yourself.
Love — true love, love that’s a given, that is there for you, and exists both parallel and perprendicular to you existing — is uncommon. At least it has been in my life. I’ve had a dog the past 7-8 years who can’t take being out of my sight for more than a minute or two. Sometimes it’s exhausting, but I remind myself that this dog is literally the only living creature I have ever known who loves me more than anyone else on this Earth.
My parents had three kids; they loved us differently, but equally, and they loved us all. My sisters have two siblings each; we love each other differently, but equally. My kid loves their mother the most, as they should; they’ve known them longer and didn’t lose access to her when we broke up. Some students have liked me quite a lot, but I doubt it was ever love, and I suspect that had more to do with me being fun “for a writing professor” than anything else. I have readers who’ve followed me and my work for years, many of whom email now and then with very sweet things to share. But what they love is my work, not my self. Until pretty recently, I’m not sure how much I’ve even loved myself. Like myself? Thoroughly. I can have a great time alone with me. But love myself? Not nearly as easy.
“Who loves ya, baby?” doesn’t have to be rhetorical. Do you know someone who you know loves you? Tell them. Thank them. Let them know that you know, and that it means something to you. Is there someone you love that you don’t often tell? No time like the present. Whether it’s left unsaid because you assume they know, or they assume you know, it never gets old hearing who loves ya.