Valentine 's Day

I feel a bit like an extraterrestrial each year on Valentine's Day. 

It was a fun day in school in first grade--and through fourth grade when I made a paper-and-cardboard cash register with a slot at the top in which to deposit our valentines and a drawer to pull them out for distribution on February 14. From there my memory goes blank. 

I don't believe I ever had a date on Valentine's Day. I guess I was not in love. Nor did I feel personal pressure, nor peer pressure, nor girl-friend pressure to pretend. While eventually Marney and I were indeed in love, my guess is that we were never in the same town on February 14 until after we got married. Perhaps our letters had an extra portion of romance that week. When we got married the day had no special meaning among the Guatemalans of our Peace Corps site.

Then came Little Rock, Boston, two daughters, graduate school, Martha's Vineyard--aware of the day, for sure, but never part of a peer culture that gave it emphasis. 

I remember smiling and puzzling when I read how important the day had become in Japan. 

In the late 70s we moved to Fort Collins. I believe it was more the decade than the place, but I found myself in a culture where what had been for me a day to be enjoyed mostly by kids had become a day celebrated with enthusiasm and obligations by adults. My first reaction was a wish for adults to get out of the way and let kids have the fun. Yet, I could not avoid some guilt induced by annual comments from friends that I was not romantic, that I was neglecting a romantic obligation. 

I had these thoughts and feelings on February 14. Now, two days later, they are slipping away fast enough that I must capture them before they disappear.  Also, I do believe I must be grateful that there is a day each year that becomes a ceremony  to remind me of at least one item in my satchel of inadequacies.




(c) from date of posting, by Bob Komives, Fort Collins