THE LAST FIVE ...

Closing up shop
- Wednesday, Aug. 02, 2006

It may be time for a change
- Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Entry in the air
- Friday, April 21, 2006

Still here
- Thursday, April 20, 2006

Music of the moment
- Wednesday, March 1, 2006

Or ... BE RANDOM!


GOOD READS

101 in 1001
American Road Trip, 1998


OTHER PEOPLE

Chupatintas
Dancing Brave
Fugging It Up
Kitty Sandwich
Mister Zero
Sideways Rain
Ultratart
Velcrometer


THE BASICS

My crew
Latest
Older
Notes
Our host
Profile

2001-02-14 - 12:24 a.m.

What I thought six years ago today

I'm not sure I still even believe all this, but I thought I'd post it. I wrote it five -- NO! six years ago now, when I was in college. It was popular the day it ran in The Observer. I got a few calls, some e-mails, a date or two out of it.

So here it is. That's all.


Go ahead, call me bitter. I may seem like a scrooge for hating a holiday, but I think everyone needs just one day a year that he or she does not look forward to. For some people it's Christmas, or the whole Holiday Season. Others dislike the Three Landmarks of Summer: Memorial Day, July 4th, and Labor Day. And some can't find the significance in such days as March 17th and May 5th (Cinco de Mayo) which, in today's culture, seem to be simply reasons to hold parades and drink. A lot. But for me, it's Valentine's Day.

My strongest critics will attempt to brand me as resentful for disliking the Day of Loooove, but I have my reasons. It's not that out of the nineteen Valentine's Days I've lived through I've only had reason to celebrate two, leaving me with a batting average just over .100. I just don't understand why we must set aside one day in a year to celebrate love. In the timeless words of David Letterman, "For me every day is Valentine's Day."

These are words that I choose to live by, to an extent. I don't treat anybody any differently on February 14 than I do on February 28, 29, August 17, or December 3. I make it a point, more than once a year, to let those I love know it and show them how much I appreciate the relationship I have with them, in whatever context it is. When I did celebrate Valentine's Day the last two years, it wasn't anything different than any other day I celebrated with this girl. We exchanged minor gifts, I got her flowers, and we went out to dinner. Gee, sounds a lot like an anniversary to me.

So why do we feel it necessary to have this holiday? I know that there's some sort of historical significance behind it that I should know about, but I'm not going to go look it up now. It's just another day out of the year that causes stress and makes people sweat over what to do for the one they love. And, as I'm sure a survey would show, most people who observe the Day of St. Valentine probably do so by going out to dinner, buying flowers, getting married, proposing, or just "staying in." In fact, I'd wager that 99% of the people who celebrate Valentine's Day do at least one of those things, while half do at least two.

Valentine's Day was fun back in grade school. Way back. It was enjoyable in second grade, when Mom would take you down to the local pharmacy (now CVS, Osco, or Walgreen's) to pick out a box of 25 Valentine's cards to write out for your class. They'd have a theme, probably depicting Disney characters or Bugs Bunny and the Looney Tunes gang, and you'd sign them all "Your Friend," unless you were really outgoing and confident enough to Go For the Gusto by saying "Love." And there'd always be one special person of the opposite sex for whom you'd pick out the Special One with a Nicer Message than any of the rest. You might add your own line to that one, or create a closing like, "Love, Your Good Friend. . . ." Then you'd decorate the envelope yourself, with lots of red and maybe some lace and glue.

When Valentine's Day comes, you waltz into school with Your Stash packed away in your backpack. At the Valentine's Party with all the heart-shaped cookies, chocolate, and Candy Conversation Hearts, you and your classmates trade Valentines. As that Special Person approaches you, searching through his or her stack for the one with your name on it, you prepare yourself. The Exchange. Your Special Person takes it, opens it, reads it, smiles, and thanks you before continuing with the delivery. You look down in your hand: A small, white envelope with you name printed on it, unless it's a higher grade and everyone is still amazed at their new-found talent for cursive. Inside, a smiling Snoopy with a cute message, possibly a rhyme, "When I count my friends, you're in the top ten! Happy Valentine's Day!"

Okay, so things didn't go quite like you planned it. But that's the beauty of it: there are no committments in the second grade. No boy- or girlfriends to impress who will expect something just as thoughtful in return. So your Special Person has a different Special Person from you; that's okay. You're young, you've got time. Your love will come, and you'll need all the time you can get to prepare for when those Valentine's Days will matter and you need to say more than Hallmark can.

I'm sure that some day in the future I will like Valentine's Day again. I'll be married and look forward to sharing the day with my wife. And, years later, I'll see myself in the second grade again through the eyes of my child as he or she looks for that one card for the Special Person. But until that day comes, I'm going to go on being my thoughtful, charming self. I'm going to keep the spirit of February 14 alive throughout the year until we realize it's just another over-commercialized holiday and what we're celebrating on that day should be observed every day. So, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go make reservations for Flag Day before all the good restaurants are booked.

Previous page: Roses on the pavement
Next page: Long, rambling thoughts from the (early) morning after

� 1998-2004 DC Products. All rights reserved.

Yeah, sorry I have to be all legal on you here, but unless otherwise indicated, all that you read here is mine, mine, mine. But feel free to quote me or make fun of me or borrow what I write and send it out as an e-mail forward to all your friends, family and coworkers. Just don't say it's yours, you know?