Breathe in. Breathe out. Excitement. Did the boy with the brown eyes and the freckles really give ME a paper valentine? Does he *giggle* LIKE like me? Breathe in. Breathe out. Stress. I'm running out of valentines that just imply friendship...should I give this boy a Spongebob or a Captain Planet? Classrooms full of glue, glitter, and construction paper. The agonizing over who gets what and which message to send to whom and guarding fragile third grader feelings. Sugar cookies. Icing. I must wear pink. I HATE pink. Why do I have to wear this? Isn't white or red good enough? *Gasp* that girl wore BLUE. What does that mean? Doesn't she have a Valentine? Breathe in. Breathe out. Disappointment. I didn't get as many valentines this year. But no matter, mom made cupcakes!
Valentine's Day is one of those holidays, like Christmas, Easter, St. Patrick's Day, and that odious day dedicated to a groundhog...which loses enchantment the older one becomes. As a child, there's an almost tangible feeling of magic; of conspiracy and youth--associated with these holidays. (Okay, so there's nothing magical about a groundhog,) but there IS something magical about crayons and creativity, no homework for a day, kid's moms coming in with things that taste better than the cafeteria, stickers on noses and frosting on shoes. For just a day, the entire school is wreathed in smiles and fun and drama easily resolved with a tissue and a new activity. The real purpose of the holiday is lost of course; completely buried in layers of sticky sugar and sequined popsicle sticks. Jesus gains one hundred pounds and rides in a sleigh, or sprouts two ears and deposits eggs in secret places. Ancient celebrated saints and goddesses are reduced to pots of gold, fat winged babies and paper bags.
Years pass. Religious meaning becomes known and cherished or discarded. When work and school are no longer canceled for a rodent and his shadow, the less significant holidays' dates are forgotten. Suddenly Valentine's Day becomes something much more sinister. Of course, commercialization has superficially degraded every holiday under the sun, but Valentine's Day seems to take an extra hit from the media. "Prove you love so and so with a diamond necklace...show you care with chocolates!" In other words, "THE AMOUNT OF LOVE YOU HAVE IS DIRECTLY RELATED TO THE SIZE OF YOUR WALLET."
Now wait a second. Step back and think about this! Wasn't it the Beatles who sang "Can't Buy Me Love" and generations sang along? If you're actually IN a relationship, do you really need a day on the calendar to remind you of it? And if you're NOT in a relationship, do you really deserve to have it rubbed into your face for a week, watching parades of flowers and cards and kisses? I've heard that many call it "Single Awareness Day," or S.A.D. rather than it's official name. It might be a good day for the economy, but it's a sad day for the human soul.
Nevertheless, the date marches on. No amount of protest will halt the onslaught. So instead, I offer only some advice as you celebrate this year's "Day of Love," whether you are alone this year or have someone to share the celebration with.
My advice is this: spend TIME, not money, and concentrate on SHARING rather than giving. Yes, there is a difference between the two. You can give without sincerity, but you can't share without wanting to.
The best valentine's I have ever received from the opposite sex came in the smallest, cheapest, and most meaningful packages (I'm NOT talking about condoms). Many of them didn't even come on Valentine's day, but meant more to me than they would have otherwise because the command "DO SOMETHING FOR A GIRL TODAY" was not screaming at them at the time.
I remember a boy in tenth grade who did something extraordinary: he purchased two dozen or so purple carnations, and throughout the day walked up and down the halls looking for girls who looked sad, or lonely, or obviously lacked that "valentine vibe." Then he would hand them a flower, smile, and ask them about their day. It amazed me the reactions of these girls (and yes, I was one of them that year) the way their faces suddenly lit up, and they took the flower with a smile, and were from that moment immune to the gloomy all-consuming "single awareness" feeling. Why should they feel bad that they were single? What did it matter if they received one of the coveted pink delivery notes which announced a few flowers tied with ribbon, or a special card from a loved one, or any number of wonderful things that arrived for the lucky few?
The girls who held purple carnations knew that they were still human after all. Love didn't necessarily mean having a boyfriend to make out with over lunch. Kindness and compassion went on, regardless of the day. A box of lemon heads, a note scribbled on the back of a receipt, a smile, a phone call on my birthday, a courageous text admitting a crush, a burned CD, a letter, a hand to steady weak legs while ice skating, an embrace to strengthen a broken heart after a bad day...THESE. THESE are the most powerful expressions of human emotion that far outshine, at least in my memories, anything bought with money or compliments.
So when you're making arrangements this weekend for the Big Day, consider purple carnations. Close your wallet, put those corny candles and rose petals away, and do something that you won't regret months later when you're still paying off the bills for that night out that you'll never remember. Put some meaning back into the words "I Love You."
