Love Bats Last

PEACE-LOVE-AND-BASEBALL-225 Love Bats Last resonates because I know how true it is. I don’t care what anyone says.

My shrink so disagrees with this…wonders where my need to be so nice stems from? He sweetly calls me a people pleaser…a do-gooder…an Uncle Tom (he’s black) and on occasion, even a martyr.

That makes me laugh. A martyr, really? Just because I send birthday cards?

He wants me to be tougher on the world, and I’ve asked him, why would he think I was anything but? I’m tough, have a Teflon finish I don pretty much whenever I’m out in a world he describes as mean and uncaring.

Alright, so I spring a leak once in a while, but still more or less hold my ground.

But what I’ve truly learned, in trial and error, if you don’t at least try to choose love as the antidote, then there is really no hope for change.

Nelson Mandela, who I proudly share a birthday with, passed away last week. When you think of a light extinguished, that part of the world has just had a major blackout.

After being incarcerated for 27 years, his heart remained open. One can only ask, how could that be?

Because he opted for love, that’s why. It’s a conscious choice we can make over revenge and retaliation. Is there suffering involved along with frustration not to leave out the humiliation when time and time again your efforts are thwarted and rejected?

Absolutely…like banging your head against that old proverbial wall.

But it’s also the only chance of causing a shift in the collective consciousness.

Aggression on aggression escalates what already is…like bumping head on into someone on the street…you bounce off one another with tremendous force feeling stunned and addled.

But if you lend kindness in its stead…extend a hand…show that you’re not out for blood and warfare…you can actually hear the planet sigh as if to say…finally, I can put down my sword because frankly I’m fucking exhausted.

Hating, for the record, takes a lot of energy.

I love the beginning of the novel Les Miserables (Victor Hugo, 1862), when the priest pretends he gave Jean Valjean the candelabra he stole so he wouldn’t be sent back to jail. This act of kindness opens Jean’s heart, tweaking the reader’s, displaying the example.

I’ve often compared myself to a raw nerve hurting so easily I’m no challenge. I’m the doe running in the woods the hunter kills because I paused to ask if he required directions.

Next thing you know I’m strapped to the roof of a jeep bleeding all along the Hudson River Parkway…

but look…the stadium.

It’s the bottom of the ninth, 3 men on base and the Stalwarts are losing…but alas…here comes LOVE up to bat…

LAST…

CAN SHE DO IT… PULL A BABE RUTH RESTORING FAITH TO THE MASSES BLEEDING SO BADLY IN THOSE COLD-HEARTED BLEACHERS?

WE HOLD OUR BREATH AS WE WATCH HER EFFORTLESSLY HIT IT ONCE AGAIN, RIGHT OUT OF THE PARK…

WONDERING HOW WE EVER DOUBTED HER?

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🙂

SB

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About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
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38 Responses to Love Bats Last

  1. micklively says:

    Another wonderful piece Susannah: you are an inspiration.
    I am minded of the Marcella Detroit song:

    Like

  2. Again… love this. To choose love is much more difficult than to continue to hate. Hating is exhausting, it is unhealthy and it wears you down, way down. It is brave to choose to love, to choose to forgive. It is unburdening yourself of that garbage we easily can bury ourselves in. I have chosen love and forgiveness too many times. I kick myself at times for choosing that route as I know it is not always easy, but sometimes it is the only right thing to do. No, I don’t see you as a martyr, I see you as a brave defiant woman who is going against the tide of hate and choosing life in the area of love. Thank you for this post. ❤ DAF

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  3. katecrimmins says:

    Love this piece. A long time ago I read somewhere that hate was not the opposite of love. Apathy is. You have to process it but it’s true. That has helped me analyze where I am in relationships. The part that includes anger, rage and yes hate means you there is still a lot of love in there. I don’t know how Mandela did it to come out without that rage. Perhaps 27 years is a long time to process but I only hope that I could do that.

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  4. skinnyuz2b says:

    Ha ha, Susannah. At first I was waiting to see why you loved bats last. I’m a bit slow this morning!
    Wow, you share your birthday with Mandela. How wonderful. And don’t stop believing that a positive outlook is the best way to go. It does NOT mean you’re naïve or a Pollyanna.
    A grumpy sister-in-law once called my Pookie and me ‘yuppie do-gooders.’ First of all, we’re not and never have been yuppies. The comment was because we spent the day before Christmas delivering a home cooked meal and a few gifts to elderly shut-ins throughout our two county area.

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  5. Vasca Beall says:

    Love is always the greatest…always. Our family of 22 decided rather than exchange gifts w/each other plus nieces/nephews we would ‘gift’ someone who needed lifting. A young mother suffering stage 4 cancer w/three little daughters is the one. Love is always the greatest…always!

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