A little hug can go a long way

“What the world needs now, is love sweet love,

“It’s the only thing that there’s just too little of

“What the world needs now, is love sweet love,

“No, not just for some, but for everyone.”

This popular song, with lyrics written by Hal David and music composed by Burt Bacharach, was first made popular by Jackie DeShannon. It was released in 1965. I guess the world has always needed more love, and that certainly holds true today, too.

During my time in public office, I learned many things, and not all of them were government related. I learned communication comes in many forms. I’ve talked about hugging in the past, and I hope you won’t mind me talking about it again. I think in today’s world, positive forms of communication and expressions of caring are so important.

I grew up in a loving family, my parents, my two brothers and me. Dad worked a 4 p.m. to midnight shift as a superintendent at the Four-Wheel Drive. My dad did not want my mother to work outside our home and she was fine with that. She was happy being a homemaker, wife and mother. We were a modest family. My folks were good people.

My mother was always there when I came home from school. She had freshly baked coffee cake, a dish of strawberries or some other special treat ready as an after-school snack. I remember chattering away, telling her about my day.

Although there was no question we were loved, my family did not show physical affection. We were not a family that hugged one another. My parents never showed physical affection for one another in front of us, yet we knew they loved one another. I don’t ever recall us saying “I love you” to one another, but we loved.

I will always remember what happened to me the day after I was first elected mayor. I was going up the steps of the post office at the same time a city resident was descending. Smiling broadly, she wrapped her arms around me saying, “Congratulations on becoming our new mayor.”

Hopefully the surprise of being hugged didn’t show on my face, and even more importantly, I hope I didn’t pull away. I’m not sure what I did actually. Receiving a hug was very foreign to me, and it really took me off guard.

In the following days and years, the hugs kept coming. Some people asked if they could hug me. Of course, I always said yes. Some didn’t ask, they just gave me a hug. Some gave me an enthusiastic bear hug, a tight hug that engulfed me. Sometimes it was so tight, it hurt, but in a good way.

I often received a squeeze hug, a happy kind of hug; one that conveyed friendship and warmth. Once in a while, I received a polite, professional type of hug. It was usually accompanied by a polite smile and a kind word.

On occasion, I received a “buddy hug,” a little pat on the back and a shoulder grab. It generally came with a compliment or a thank you.

Initially, I am afraid I might have been guilty of the worst kind of hug, the unreciprocated hug. I think I may have just stood there like a statue with my arms down by my side, not returning a hug from a well-meaning person. Receiving or giving a hug did not come natural to me. Learning to hug at an older age was an adventure of sorts.

The more hugs I received, the more I realized what a wonderful expression of caring and kindness a hug really is. Looking back, I dearly appreciate the literally hundreds of people who gave me a hug and taught me how good a hug can make one feel.

I have learned to not only enjoy and appreciate receiving a heartfelt hug, I have also learned how to give them.

My hubby also grew up in a family that did not hug. Although we hugged our children when they were little, we didn’t hug when they grew older. I feel bad about that, but I am glad they both seem comfortable giving or receiving hugs even though they didn’t learn the joys of a hug at home.

I am so grateful I eventually learned how wonderful hugs are. Now, when our grandchildren and great-grandchildren visit, you can bet this grandma and grandpa do a lot of hugging.

“I have learned there is more power in a good strong hug than in a thousand meaningful words.” — Ann Hood