This is Valentine's month. I realize that it is supposed to be limited to one day, but during this time of economic impotency one day will simply do no good. Perhaps the purchase of cards, candy, flowers, pajamas, jewelry, dinner and wine will provide a much needed stimulus for the economy if we keep it up for a whole month.
I loved Valentine's Day when I was in elementary school. We made "mail boxes" out of sacks or envelopes or construction paper, decorated them and put our names on them and taped them to the classroom walls. Art was never my forte', so my mail box was always pathetic. The girls' mail boxes on either side of mine in the alphabetic order always looked like something you would buy at a Hallmark store or bid on at an auction. But a pathetic guy is somehow attractive to some females no matter the age. Thank goodness.
There was a dime store in town that had all you needed for Valentine's Day, if you were in the first grade. There was a bin full of those chalky candy hearts with messages on them. They would scoop them into a small white paper bag for you and you bought them by the pound. Back then the messages were innocent, unless you were in the fifth or sixth grade. Fifth or sixth grade guys could make a sexual innuendo out of anything.
The store carried a wide selection of Valentine Cards, usually in packs of 25 or so. If you had the courage to pick out a big single Valentine for a girl you might as well have been buying a ring and scheduling a preacher.
I would examine the assortment of packs of Valentines at the store a good while before I made the purchase. This was serious business. No time to check out the toy or comic book section on this trip. Then when I got home, I would open the packs, spread all the cards out on the desk, and carefully decide which card to give to which person. All this had to be done in secret to avoid the ridicule of older siblings.
I had a system. First, no person in the class was left out. Back then we gave Valentine's cards to everyone regardless of gender. At least that's what my mother told me. I hope she was right.
Then I would pick out obvious cards for my closer friends. My friend who loved football would get the one with the football and some clever saying like, "Be my valentine, it will be a ball." Only good for pre fifth grade for aforementioned reasons. You cannot say or write ball or balls after the age of 7 or 8 without trouble. My friend who was known for being smart would get the one with the owl wearing eyeglasses, sitting on a stack of books, that said something clever like "Make the grade, be my Valentine."
After I had painstakingly chosen the proper card for my close friends I would sign cards for everyone else in the class and stuff them in the envelopes.
So now everyone was taken care of . . . except that one . I maintained a crush of some sort for most of my school years. Most of the time the crushee never knew. I was a bit shy. Actually I was more like invisible. But Valentine's was my opportunity. It was great. A day that you were supposed to express romantic notions to the object of your affection. And better yet you did it by putting a card in an envelope. So this last task was important. Cute, cuddly animals were good. Superlatives like "best" and "most" were good.
And for the piece de resistance for that special girl I would go to the candy heart bag, or what was left of it. Usually the drive home from the store involved the eating, and occasionally the throwing at my sister, of a few of the hearts.
"Hugs and kisses." Too forward. "Love me?" Never ask a question you don't know the answer to. "You're the one." Yea, that's about right. I would carefully check the message, then slip the heart into the envelope with the specially chosen card.
I doubt that any of those girls ever knew the effort I put into those Valentines. None of them ever let on that they knew. But I knew. I am sure they read the clever messages with the cuddly animals and looked at the words on the candy right before they ate them. Somehow that made me feel good.
Lately I've complained about our emphasis on buying stuff in order to save our world. I rebel at the notion that consuming more and more makes the world go round. Cause I learned at Camp Sumatanga as a child, probably suffering from a brand new camp crush, in the words of a deeply serious song, "It's love that makes the world go round." It had motions. Showing love certainly takes more than buying the right candy, card, jewel or automobile, as nice as that may be.
To make it special, you always gotta give a little heart.
Happy Valentines week.
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