All I Need to Know

Letter #112

A few days ago, Gram and I marked our wedding anniversary. Perhaps I should have said that we celebrated our anniversary, but that isn’t exactly right. As we inch ever closer to 50 years together, we don’t approach the celebration of our love and marriage as a time to party; instead, we approach them as years to honor. We have been together in the “trenches” of life – learning, struggling, and experiencing the “ups and downs” or the “pain and joy” all humans will face in their lives. There is a continuous deepening of our relationship and a never-ending quest for each of us to better understand the person we already know better than anyone else. The challenge is not to identify and correct any deficiencies that we may discover, but to accept, appreciate and weave the character and idiosyncrasies of our spouse into the tapestry of our lives.

Now, please know that we have talked about our behaviors and responses that could have been better. As we promised to each other at our wedding, we strive for honest communication, even when we might feel hurt in a difficult discussion.

For many years now, we have learned to respond to more than just the words that are spoken. We respond to the emotion with which the words are spoken and to the context in which they are spoken. In considering what truly matters, we have occasionally reminded one other, “It is not the words that you say; it’s how you say them.” The words convey information; the delivery conveys emotion. Even without words, I can interpret Gram’s footfall, movements, posture, and – of course – facial expression, all of which reflect more dimensions than words ever can. We are embodied creatures; our bodies often reveal more than we know or choose to reveal.

One of my weaknesses during the first half of my life was savoring the music that I heard, without thinking much about the lyrics. In fact, I often had trouble learning the words to songs, even though their melodies, harmonies and richness were deeply embedded in my memory. Even Gram, whom I am convinced can identify almost any song within the first five notes, is sometimes surprised by the words that were hiding behind music that she loved.

I think some songs that were popular when Gram and I were younger serve as a good analogy for relationships. If we just read lyrics, we would overlook the power of the melody. If we are deeply moved by the music, the lyrics – if they are not intentionally opaque – may not be terribly important. The best example of this interplay that I can think of, in the context of Gram’s and my wedding anniversary, is “I Don’t Know Much,” or “All I Need to Know”.

A duet cover of this song was released in 1989 by Linda Ronstadt and Aaron Neville.^[1] I have never been able to hear this version of the song without feeling the power and tenderness of a relationship that it conveys. I have never been able to stop tears from welling up in my eyes. For those of you who know the song, it honors a long-standing relationship while acknowledging disappointments, uncertainty and aging:

Look at this face
I know the years are showing
Look at this life
I still don’t know where it’s going

Look at these eyes
They’ve never seen what mattered
Look at these dreams
So beaten and so battered

But the refrain, heard repeatedly throughout the song, is the message – both simple and profound:

I don’t know much
But I know I love you
And that may be 
All I need to know

The words definitely carry meaning. But apart from the words, the music – reflecting intimacy, acceptance and responsibility – carries an even greater message. And this is a message of depth, tenderness, and endurance.

Ronstadt and Neville did not write the song – they created neither the lyrics nor the melody. It was written almost a decade earlier, with the collaboration of Tom Snow, by a husband-and-wife team – Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil, both of whom have been inducted into the Songwriter’s Hall of Fame. When first released, the song experienced modest success. But when Linda and Aaron’s duet was released, the singers imbued it with emotion and depth that has given it enduring popularity.

Gram and I both agree that being married to the right person is the most defining decision of our lives; staying married for decades allows each partner to grow with and into the other. Saying the words are important; but the power of the relationship lies within the power of the music – the power of tenderness and acceptance.

There is a role too for candor, both with words and emotions. Candor may reflect our limitations or inadequacies, but it is important for each of us to acknowledge and “own” them before they can be accepted as part of the beloved person that we are:

by Linda:
And when I feel you near me
Sometimes I see so clearly
The only truth I’ve ever know
Is me and you

by Aaron:
Look at this man
So blessed with inspiration
Look at this soul
Still searching for salvation

Both Gram and I feel extraordinarily fortunate that our years together have been ones of growing closer, knowing each other better – through means beyond thoughtful or well-chosen words. Our story is the Ronstadt-Neville version, even better and more meaningful than the original version.

Early in our marriage, or perhaps just before, I remember going out to dinner with Gram. As we were excitedly talking, we observed with wonder and concern a much older couple eating their meal in silence. How sad, we thought, that they had nothing to talk about at this stage of their lives. Little did I suspect – as I do now, being that old myself – that they had plenty to say and so much to remember, but chose to communicate without words. Their togetherness, their resonance, their expressions and their smallest movements may have contained more meaning than any of the words they had used so often before.

Their silence – like ours at times – may sing of enduring love, unqualified acceptance, and unyielding commitment, taking us well beyond the meaning of our lyrics.

Opa

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^[1] Listen to “All I Need to Know” at