Ah, Valentine’s Day. The day that many women anticipate eagerly as the most romantic day of the year. . . and many men approach with great trepidation or dismiss out of hand as a corporate scam. The day actually began as a pagan festival in ancient Rome, and activities included animal sacrifices and the whipping of women with animal skins until they bled, a ritual designed to represent their fertility. That’s a far cry from candle-lit dinners and a box of chocolates. In the middle ages, the Catholic Church co-opted the holiday and called it “St. Valentine’s Day” for the first time, although no one knows with any degree of certainty who the actual St. Valentine was (There are several theories). In the 1300s, the day became associated with love somehow. Many believe that it was because February 14 was generally seen as the start of the mating season of certain types of birds. Like most holidays, the tradition took off in the 1800s with the advent of advertising. By 1900, the idea was ingrained in America that all suitors should express their love in some manner that included jewelry, candy, flowers, or other symbols purchased from a large business concern. The most popular method of expressing such sentiments, of course, is the greeting card. Today, 145 million valentine cards are sent each year, with 85% of them being purchased by women. Still, I remember my grade-school days and handing out those little cards that were about 25 for a buck. I would spend hours with that pack of cheap cards, selecting just the right one for each kid in my class. I especially agonized over which one would send the proper subliminal vibes of my love to some special girl who had caught my eye.
Today . . . not so much. Kathleen and I have been married for 28 years now, so Valentine’s Day is not that big of a deal. During our “courting” period, of course, it was more important to us. Even in the early years of our marriage, we would try to do something special. Our ultra-practical natures, though, meant that we usually celebrated on a day other than the 14th in order to avoid the crowds at local restaurants. Often, we just rolled Valentine’s Day up with other holidays (birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas) and took a summer trip, saying it was our gift to one another. I do recall one particular VD when I forgot all about it. I was immersed in the school year and the start of track practice, and the holiday completely slipped my mind, despite the fact that I was surrounded at school by teen-aged girls who were all atwitter about the day. I came home and saw a gift (probably a bottle of liquor) and a card in a bright envelope sitting on the kitchen table. My immediate reaction was, “Oh shit.” The next day, after practice, I found myself at the store with a long line of men, all holding candy or flowers. The guy in front of me turned around and said, “So you’re in trouble, too, huh?” I just nodded sadly, my demeanor dripping with repentance.
This year, in the midst of austerity month, I opted for a small gesture. On Tuesday the 11th, our final piece of furniture—a table and chairs for the sunroom—arrived. I thought that the room needed a little accent piece, so, with Valentine’s Day approaching, I decided to pick up some flowers and kill two birds with one stone. (Yes, I know; I’m a romantic bastard.) I drove downtown and parked near city hall. Then I went for some exercise along the river. With temperatures around 20 degrees and nearly a foot of new snow on the trails, running was impossible. But I trudged through the snow for four miles, winding back to a grocery store. There, I purchased a lovely bouquet of flowers that would look wonderful on our new table.
You know the old adage that you’re never too old to learn something new? By the time I walked the two blocks back to my car, I had learned a new lesson about flowers, sub-freezing temperatures, and good intentions. When I reached home, I handed Kathleen a bunch of dead and wilted flowers. She looked ruefully at the fading blossoms and said, “Well, it was a good thought.” She also shrugged and told me that she had looked at some greeting cards. “Good grief!” she said, (She’s the only person in the world, aside from Charlie Brown, who says “good grief.”) “They want eight bucks for those damn things, so you’re not getting one this year.”
You can imagine my disappointment.
In Roman mythology, Cupid, the son of Venus, the goddess of love, shoots people with magic arrows to make them fall passionately in love. Today, Cupid is the image most often associated with Valentine’s Day. I’m not saying I wasn’t stung by those arrows at one point, but today, Valentine’s Day is more of an excuse to buy still more candy for our grandchildren.