It has come to my attention as of late that there are Christian churches in the U.S. that still arrange marriages (I am thinking of Reformed Presbyterian). Of course, for those who don’t know, the arranged marriage is when it is suggested that two people marry but it is not forced—the parties may refuse.

It was the custom in Italy in the 1800s and early 1900s to arrange marriages. My great-grandparents moved to the U.S. with their three young daughters in the early 1900s. My great-grandmother, who was an unlikely feminist for the times and her class, vowed that her daughters would not be subjected to an arranged marriage. My daughters live in America now, she said, and they will choose whom they want to marry.

And so, her daughter, my grandma, Maria Lago, or Mari Lag, as she was affectionately known, chose the man she would marry. He was 20 to her 28, a fact she kept hidden as dating younger men wasn’t chic like it is now in the days of Demi and Ashton. But my grandma took the risk anyway and married the man she wanted to marry. He was not her only suitor. There was another man who went on to become rich and somewhat famous in his industry but my grandmother didn’t love him and never expressed regret over the loss. She loved a dark-haired, dark-eyed gypsy man who swept up the candy shop across the street from her sister’s pizzeria. And though he wasn’t a business man like the men in her family, though she knew money would be tight, she took the plunge and married the boy. He always bought her presents and big candy hearts on Valentine’s Day. If men cursed in the street, he told them to apologize to my grandmother. He died at age 53 when Mari Lag was 61. She was devoted to him and never set eyes on another man the rest of her life. I used to play with her and tell her some actor on TV was her boyfriend—like Jack Palance. She would laugh. One day, I asked her who she thought was the handsomest man. She didn’t smile nor look at me and just said, "Your grandfather."

So my grandmother and grandfather married for love. But what is love? When I was writing a novel on Indian immigration to the U.S., I interviewed many people of all ages who were Gujurati. The older women told me their marriages were arranged and told me that is the best way to do it. "You learn to love," they told me. Then I read a story about a teenaged Indian girl in Queens who killed herself rather than marry the man her father had picked out for her. Though that sounds like a forced marriage. In an arranged marriage, the couple has a choice, though there may be strong coaxing.

I assessed all the married couples I know and who I think married for love and who I think married for other reasons. (I admit there are other reasons to marry besides tradition/beliefs and/or love, such as getting pregnant or for money or revenge but I’m not addressing these here.) Besides my grandparents, there are others I can think who married for love: my uncle Joe and aunt Angie, my uncle Tommy and aunt Allene, my cousins Ray and Patty, and my neighbors Armando and Ellen.

What do they all have in common? For one, they chose each other. Second, they are devoted to each other, at least two having been together 50-plus years. Of course, people in arranged marriages can be devoted to each other as well, but these couples seem to shout to the world, "We were made for each other!" But one thing about some of these relationships made me wonder if they were somewhat arranged as well. My grandparents were both Italian Catholics from the New York City area—they shared a common faith and understanding of life—the same can be said for Joe and Angie, who were together for over 50 years. Angie died last year and it is as if a piece of Joe has died as well. To talk to him now is to hear true loss.

Armando and Ellen are the different couple—he was an Italian Catholic and she was English, not sure of her religious belief if any. He said he met her at a dance while he was in the Army during World War II. As I recall him telling the story, a bomb hit, the room shook, and he looked over and saw the most beautiful girl. That girl left her family and life in England to come with an American GI to a country she’d never been to to start a new life. I always thought the impulsive act was the epitome of love. I often wondered what kept Armando and Ellen smiling and winking at each other well into their 80s when I knew them. They had no children but they had something—if it wasn’t a common background—it must have been that elusive thing we call chemistry, or love, or as they say in Sex and the City, the za za zoo.

Ray and Patty are also Italians from the city area. I remember when they would visit my family when I was a kid. They’d always be hugging and kissing and at their wedding, they licked wedding cake frosting off each other’s noses—now that’s love.

Tommy and Allene were also from the city with the same religious beliefs, but he was Italian and she was Irish, and in the past, that was a controversial combination. The two have a very strong connection that has lasted over 30 years. I don’t think there’s anything they wouldn’t do for each other.

After looking at these perfect love stories, I wondered, does love conquer all or do our own personal beliefs? After all, all these couples are tied, if not by their similar ethnicities, by their religions or by their regions.

When I was a kid, I thought if I got married, it would be to an Italian guy from the city. Until I moved to New York City, that is. I fell in love with Irish Catholic men—though a different ethnicity—not so different because we shared the same faith and same way of viewing the world since we were from the same region.

I guess there is something to be said for having a common ethnicity, religion, or tradition/custom. The older Indians I interviewed wanted their kids to marry Indians, Jews want their kids to marry Jews, and I think all Italian parents would be happy if their kids married a "nice Italian girl/boy." I guess in the end, it means the couple is going in the same direction, especially if they want children. I am grateful my parents are both Italian Catholics from New Jersey because I grew up with the same values as a typical Italian Catholic family and there was never contradiction in my house. I can’t say that isn’t important to me. I’d like the band to play a Neapolitan tarantella at my wedding and I’d like to get married in the same church as my mother and grandmother. I’d like my husband to share what other Italians share—like how we never go to therapy or send our kids to therapy, the family takes care of its own and works through issues.

I’m not saying I can’t fall in love with an Italian guy and can have love and compatibility, but given the choice of customs/religion/region/ethnicity in common or love, I chose the latter because I’ve chosen the latter. I’ve met many a nice Italian boy from New Jersey with a good job who could provide for me the life that I’d be used to, be comfortable with, and be familiar with. But I’ve also felt love, or had that magical chemistry feeling with someone who was none of those things and given the choice, I still would’ve chosen love because hanging out with the nice Italian boy was never enough. I was always searching for more—more than surface commonalities but a deeper connection—that something extra that would make me take the leap like Ellen did.

Perhaps an arranged marriage is good for some—who want the familiar, the predictable, the comfortable, the easier, but I know I wouldn’t be happy with a nice Italian boy just for those reasons. I don’t want to learn to love someone, I want to feel love and take a chance, because either way, you have to live with someone and all their own personal eccentricities, and you have to deal with life’s punches, and I want to be with the person I’m with because I want to be with them--not because it’s easier, it’s familiar, it’s comfortable, it’s predictable, or it’s what a designated group says it’s what I should do.

So does love conquer all or do our own personal beliefs? The ideal situation is that we’d have both—to be in love with someone who believes what we believe about life. But if we can’t have both or both don’t present themselves in our lives, what do we do? Choose love now and perhaps conflict later? Or choose our own personal beliefs and learn to love someone and eventually love them or eventually wish we had followed our heart?

I know our culture places this high value on romantic love as if it’s better or stronger than parent-child love or sister-sister love or the like. I assume we do this because romantic love includes the intimate act of sex. But maybe what people who subscribe to arranged marriages realize is that sex is not that important and a stable, secure family life is, that utilitarian ideal is what we should strive for—what is best for all—rather than the romantic love that is based on our individual feelings and desires, which they probably criticize as fleeting.

But I don’t know. What if Ellen hadn’t crossed the Atlantic? She was very sick in her 80s and her husband was there to take care of her. Their romantic, impulsive love wasn’t fleeting, since it lasted through 50-plus years and sickness. If she hadn’t taken a risk for the unknown, she would’ve missed those years with Armando and I wish to God I could find a man like him today.

So perhaps the argument against choosing love is that love itself is selfish. It doesn’t factor in your community, the people in your life, and the children you may create. My parents, I know, would’ve always liked to see me with a nice Italian boy but they’ve never tried to arrange a marriage for me. (I also didn’t live in an Italian community so it’d be hard for them to do so—though that doesn’t stop Indian Americans who often use newspaper matrimonials to arrange marriages.)

In the end, maybe what it comes down to is still an individual choice—what do you want more, the za za zoo or the love that comes with time—though I think even that first fleeting love can prove to be lasting if two people work at it like Armando and Ellen did. Everyone has always wondered what’s better and because of our high divorce rate, romantic love has been attacked. Who am I to have answers? I don’t. I’m just a nice Italian girl who fell in love with a boy. The boy neglected to tell me he was a member of a religious group where an arranged marriage had been in the works for him.