Ug, Valentine's Day

We’re not big on holidays in our house. Birthdays, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Independence Day, Memorial Day, Labor Day … with a few exceptions, we just don’t do anything special.

I remember when the girls were still babies, we both decided that we wouldn’t celebrate Mother’s Day or Father’s Day except to wish the other party the appropriate salutation. I recall we made this decision after witnessing the extraordinary amounts of money women were encouraged to spend on fancy-dancy grills “for dad.”

Anyway, one of the holidays we’re most sour on is Valentine’s Day. Well, maybe “sour” is too strong a word. Disenchanted, perhaps? Whatever the term, we don’t like the commercialization surrounding it.

On my part, I also don’t like the expectations behind the holiday. I don’t like the sentiment in which a man thinks he can overcome a year’s worth of selfishness and petty complaints by popping for flowers on one particular day.Nor do I like the sentiment that a woman can ignore all efforts her man puts into pleasing her all year long but sulks if she doesn’t get roses on the Big Day.

Two years ago, when Older Daughter was still living in her apartment, she email this observation (I want to emphasize she observed this at 3:35 pm on Valentine’s Day): “I just want to express how funny it is that I’ve gone to two grocery stores today and they’re packed to the gills with men. Man after man after man, clutching a dozen roses and a box of chocolates.” Most of them, apparently, wore a “deer in the headlights” expression.

One year Don was working in the shop when he realized (from radio commercials for useless holiday-themed junk) that it was Valentine’s Day. So he took a stick and sanded it smooth, then made a flower with petals cut from old paper dust masks and leaves cut from an old sanding belt. He affixed the leaves and petals to the stick and presented it to me as a mock gift.

I absolutely stinkin’ LOVED that makeshift present. I displayed it with pride in a dry vase next to my desk for years, dusting it off occasionally. The flower got displaced during our move three years ago, but I still have it. This, to me, was truly a gift from the heart.

So this year, as always, we’ll celebrate Valentine’s Day by doing what we always do: Nothing. We’ll express our love and affection for each other by everyday actions. I’ll make Don’s morning coffee, as I always do. He’ll thank me, as he always does. And the day will build from there.

I can think of no finer way to celebrate.