My father was a procrastinator, a last-minute guy. One year, he got home so late that he didn’t have time to stop and buy Valentines for my mother, sister and me. So he decorated the house in toilet paper with hearts applied in lipstick.
I’ve gotten flowers and candy and even earrings for Valentine’s Day, although I was never a femme fatale. In fact, I was so _not_ a femme fatale that it might be logical to assume that I would remember those lovely gifts with some clarity. Nope. What I remember is coming down the dark, wood-paneled staircase of my childhood home and seeing those hastily improvised white-and-red banners. I am midway down the steps when I realize what they are and I just laugh and laugh and laugh. Maybe 8, maybe 9.
For the best memoir about Valentine’s Day, track down Ruth McKenney’s piece in The McKenney’s Carry On. As for your best Valentine’s Day memory — hit that “reply” button.
One ongoing, one situational, both involving cards:
- The ongoing: In my family, the girls send valentines to the boys, and the boys to the girls, every year without fail. This has now gone into a third generation, and even the tiniest get involved (aided by mom and dad). In matter of fact, just yesterday, I got a pink envelope with my brother’s unmistakable scrawl on the front and I thought “Valentine’s Day is coming!”.
- The situational: In 1995, I left my husband two days after Christmas (that story is another whole Memory Project). Later on that week, I ran into a guy I knew, an old friend who was doing a singer/songwriter gig in a local bar. We hadn’t seen each other in years, but just fell into each other’s arms and yakked the whole night between his sets about what had happened in the intervening years – my failed marriage, his somewhat unorthodox choice of side job, besides his music. We said our happy bye byes the end of the night, and I thought that was that.
A few weeks later, I was facing my first Valentine’s Day alone in years, and not feeling awesome about it. The big day rolls around, and other than the aforementioned cards from my family, who but this man I hadn’t seen in years sends me the sweetest card ever. I kept the card, treasure it for the token of friendship and hope it was and is, and tell this tale often during this time of the year. There is one little fact I add that I have kept from you until now – this incident allows me to start a story with “Once upon a time I got a valentine from a professional wrestler…”
Vallentine’s Day in grade school was always a day of agony. Those were the days students brought little paper valentines in tiny envelopes and put them in a decorated Valentine box, from which they were drawn by the teacher and handed out to the addressees by other students.
–Who would I get one from?
–What if I didn’t get any?
–What if all were from girls?
–If my current crush didn’t give me one, who did he give one to?
My best Valentine Day was way after grade school — believe me!
As a professional ice cream cake decorator and white tablecloth caterer I have come to actively hate Valentine’s day. I do enjoy helping people to express their love for one another but feel that can and should be done any and every day of the year. One of my clients summed it up by saying we need to punctuate our lives with celebrations. Last year I ordered upscale dinners for two from another caterer and offered them to any of the staff who worked entertaining 150 guests at a Great Gatsby themed Valentine’s day party. Recognizing that they’d given up their time with someone they loved to work. After the event we got together for a very late dinner with my best friend and her husband as well as my husband.