Valentine's Day Snapshots...

As a true fan of the festivities of Valentine's Day, I thought I'd give snapshots of the Valentine's Days of my past. I hope they are little nuggets of joy in your V-Day.

No matter the year, I would wake up and smell Mom's pink pancakes. I'd scramble into some manner of pinkpurplered, anticipating all the day's festivities!  Next to my plate of pink pancakes and glass of cold milk was a little heart-shaped box of chocolates, usually with Barbie on the front.  Accompanying the chocolates was a note from Dad, written on a scrap piece of paper.  The valentine from my father usually included some kind of funny character, and some hand-drawn flies for added effect.  I thought this was something of my past, until I received a card in the mail yesterday with a picture of two gangsters (St. Valentine's Day Massacre... I am from Chicago, folks) and an inscription that read, "in lieu of crappy chocolate."  I love it. 

Snapshot #1:  My lunch would always include Mom's classic sugar cookies with pink icing (I can smell them even now), the same sugar cookies she sent me years later in college, which I used to pay a boy for picking up cough medicine for me.  It's true.  Mom had sent me beautifully iced sugar cookie hearts in the mail, but I was coughing like I had TB, and was losing my voice.  A kind friend on my brother floor went to Walgreens and picked up the meds for me, so I didn't have to brave the cold February city.  Though we were just friends, that was one of the sweetest Valentines I could have ever received: the sticky red elixir of health.   So I thanked him with the cookies.  But they were heart-shaped, and I think he maybe thought I was sending a message with that.... oops.

Snapshot #2: You can't have Valentine's Day without those ridiculous chalky conversation hearts.  I once had one that read, "be my icon."  Weird.  In high school, my fellow redheaded conspirator and I flipped them over and wrote our own conversations on them and handed those out.  I can't recall the sayings, but I do recall uncontrolled laughter, so I'm sure they were quite witty.  Probably we could have marketed those, except for the pen ink and everything.  More candy: I really loved the Sweet Tarts that were shaped like hearts.  I loved them so much that I put a white one in the ashtray of our old '92ish blue Plymouth Voyager, and about two years later I opened the ashtray and found the same piece of candy, now aged to a fine moldy white.

Snapshot #3:  The passing out of the valentines was always an event.  First of all, picking out the valentines was nothing short of exciting.  Should I get Barbie?  Or Disney?  Or maybe the cute puppy ones?  Of course you had to be very careful when distributing the valentines-- you wouldn't want to give that weirdo boy a valentine that read, "you're my Prince Charming;" that could be disastrous.  After the crazy mess of wildly sowing the valentines around the room, we'd sit down at our desks and sift through the pile of potential love notes. At the very least, the spoils you took home told you that your class at least liked you enough to write your name on a folded piece of paper secured by a heart sticker.

Snapshot #4: One thing I always thought was weird in elementary school was when "boyfriends" would give gifts to their "girlfriends."  I remember in fifth grade, Richard (whose favorite color was green and thusly he wore green sweats five days a week) gave Mandy (a tomboy with a heart of gold) "diamond" earrings (probably the finest translucent glass earrings he'd ever given) and a red rose made of feathers, maybe?  I thought that was weird.  I mean, what were their dates like in fifth grade?  "Let's hang out and play Pogs!"?!  I did get a Garfield book from Jose one year though.  Mom thought he liked me, but when a little boy flips his eyelids inside out at you, that doesn't say, "Be my valentine!"

Snapshot #5:  Through the years, I never gave up hope for a secret valentine.  Even at college.  They sold Crush cans that you could send to your friends or crushes, depending on the color.  I woke up one year to find a Monster can outside my door.  That was supposed to mean someone was stalking you.  Stalking does not equal secret valentine.

I've never had a real valentine, but I've always enjoyed the day.  May you find your own nuggets of joy on this day, with or without a valentine.