A few words on Caring!


Caring

Copyright 2008 by Odell S. Hathaway, III

Before my late wife became my late wife, she taught me a painful but important lesson. The word “CARE” is a verb. For my sake and for hers, I wish she could have learned that lesson. I think if she had, she might have found the ability to defeat her demons and still be my living wife instead of my late wife. I, on the other hand, will never forget this lesson.

You see, the English language is extremely poor in one major way. We possess so few words to express the different meanings of the single word “Love.” Because of this, we have attempted to cram that meaning into words already so full that finding their true meaning becomes almost impossible. This allows us to hide behind these now-meaningless words—like CARE.

My wife used to tell me that she cared about me. But the fact is that she seldom, if ever, cared for me—not even after my cancer surgery. Most of the time she treated me like a servant—or as I sometimes told her, like Dobby (the house-elf from Harry Potter). She loved me deeply, but she never cared for me. What was worse, she never understood the difference.

To her—and I think to most people—the word “care” is lost in all its different meanings. People like my wife use it as synonymous with “love.” They never understand that it means so much more.

Unfortunately, when I think of the word “care” in this context, I think of Luke Skywalker from Star Wars. Princess Leia wonders if Han Solo ever cared about anything. Luke responds, “I CARE.” Not that he really cares—but that he would like the Princess’s affections. That is the way people use the word “care” today. Perhaps a new definition should be added to the dictionary: Care: I want you to like me.

This type of caring has become so pervasive that we have come to accept it. Willie Nelson sings that while he never cared about you enough to show you that he loved you, “you were always on my mind.” When people hear this, they cheer instead of crying for the awful truth hidden in that song—that we have stopped caring.

We seem to have lost our need to care. We have learned to love (as a noun, or perhaps to covet) and let someone else do the caring. We have children that we love (possess) and expect the school and after-school activities to care for them. We have parents we love (possess) and expect the government or a nursing home to take care of them. We even expect the other person in our lives to take care of us—but we don’t return the favor in kind. Oh, we might be interested in caring for them between the sheets—but the other 23 hours and 15 minutes a day?

Politicians worry that the government doesn’t seem to care—when, of course, governments are incapable of caring. Only living things can love, and nothing can care that can’t love.

The checkbook is not an instrument of caring, although today most people seem to think it is. If you want to know how much they care, they will show you how much they donated.

Throughout my married life, I spent each and every day doing my best to show my wife that I cared. So many extremely small but important things—chances each day to make certain she knew I loved and cared for her. Waking her with a cup of coffee (even though I do not drink coffee), doing the housework (though I would have preferred sharing it), listening to everything she said and doing my best to learn from it. So many times I would do something or suggest something and she would look surprised and say, “You really do listen to me.” Or the biggest things—like staying with her in the hospital or holding her hand at the dentist. All because it was the most important thing in my life to make certain she never had the opportunity to doubt that I cared.

It became clear to me just how much we have lost the ability to care when, after my wife had a nervous breakdown and had to be committed, the judge came up to me and thanked me for attending the commitment hearing. People care so little that what I did seemed worthy of mention to him.

There was an episode of the original Star Trek called “City on the Edge of Forever.” In that episode, Captain Kirk said:

  • “Let me help.” One hundred years or so from now, I believe a famous novelist will write a classic using that theme. He will recommend those words even over “I love you.”

I think that famous writer, who will not write those words for 50 more years, was right. “I love you” is a wonderful starting point—but the true goal is to CARE.

Webster’s Dictionary

Care: noun 1. The work of caring for or attending to someone or something. 2. Judiciousness in avoiding harm or danger. 3. An anxious feeling. 4. A cause for feeling concern. 5. Attention and management implying responsibility for safety. 6. Activity involved in maintaining something in good working order.
Verb: 1. Feel concern or interest. 2. Provide care for. 3. Prefer or wish to do something. 4. Be in charge of, act on, or dispose of. 5. Be concerned with.

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