Sometimes when I write it is deliberate, sometimes it is inspired. This piece is both. This is the result of five decades of February 14th memories and opinions.
In 2012 it falls on a Tuesday. I will be working. I will not expect anything spectacular and even if something spectacular happened no one would know, but two others in my immediate family. So what is all the hype?
Mine have been an cyclic battle of “here we are again or it doesn’t phase me” in my adult life. Have you guessed my Valentine’s Days have been less than desired by my standard. To begin with I am a hopeless romantic, now you know the task of making me happy was daunting. Roses, chocolates, diamonds, sweet breakfasts in bed, romantic dinners… those would have been good starts. Now using reasonable deducing one might think this person is STILL a candidate to be a fan of the day. Maybe the celebrations have “just missed” and the “mushy-hearted” fool is waiting to emerge. However, that is not the case. Then you explore the disappointed cynic and perhaps that is a part of my feelings too.
How did I get to this place? Well the greeting card industry had a great deal to do with it, but I am not going to bash them. There have been times that I believed I would be better served in that very industry, the flip side of that is I have made myself indifferent due to an industry filled with something I have an on-going love affair with, WORDS.
In elementary school you may recall little heart shaped cards and hard pastel colored candy that were associated with the day. Nothing noteworthy happened here, that is until the tuggings of adolescence began to surface. At first mostly girls gave valentines and some boys, with their mother’s insistence participated. Then you could see the popularity contests start. It went from everyone in the class to actually recognizing fond feelings, friendship or budding “puppy-love”. You were either giggling about the reality of it, fantasizing about it, or feeling isolated for a lack of it. I spent a great deal of time in the fantasy realm where it was safe. Allowing me to protect my heart, but it happened. He came mid-school year, I was in sixth grade, and he was the prettiest boy I had ever seen. He didn’t know I existed and as time went on I would hope that I had remained in that place, but I never forgot him. He wasn’t particularly mean to me, he was being an eleven year old boy who was as guided by his hormones as he was by peer pressure.
The teen and early adult years would be a series of near misses with significant others or simply lack there of. The lukewarm would-be cynic began to develop and grow. Somewhere in between there were some really special ones for me, ones that will remain in my heart and mind forever.
Therefore, I felt compelled to research Saint Valentine, whom of we have to thank for the name of our sentimental fool’s holiday. He was beheaded. I am laughing as I bluntly put that out here, for while this was not intended to be a super serious piece it was not the intention to poke fun at either. Irony at it’s roots.
Finally and all put aside; I truly hope your Valentine’s Day is filled with chocolate hearts, beautifully worded poems and the sweet embraces of the one who holds the key to your heart. That is a sincere heart-felt wish.