Friday, February 15, 2008
The Morning after Valentine’s Day
A decidedly unsappy teen I know reminded me that St. Valentine’s martyrdom involved plucking out the poor fellow’s heart. This is fitting because some years a ripped-out heart is exactly what Valentine’s Day feels like. Other times the holiday, like a raw oyster, goes down easily once you get started. And then there are those few golden springs when the Fates smile upon you and you are in love. In those years, V-Day is a Hallmark fantasy of pressed doilies and big red hearts bulging with chocolates and Cupids fluttering by. It’s enough to make all of your friends quite sick.
And they have every right to be. Pollsters report that 17% of new lovers believe that pet names like Babycakes or Ca-cute-ums are uplifting to anyone forced to overhear them. An informant tells me that an alarming 26.2% of crushed-out sixth grade boys think a swift knuckle to the ribs makes a good opening move. Of course some people simply abstain. As many as 14% of adults chose to skip V-Day this year because, and I quote, “I am just so grateful to be free of that clown.” End quote. Another 21% say they messed up their last romance but they’re more than ready to try again, please. A happy 6% have figured out how to go on slowly and imperfectly weaving that special someone deeper and irretrievably deeper into their hearts for years after the first blush of romance. Watch out for these folks – they have trouble with decorum in elevators and on dusky summer evenings in their own back yard. Now the statistics may not add up to 100% due to rounding, but you get the picture. Valentine’s Day is one heck of a mixed blessing.
And there could be someone listening right now whose beloved passed away last year, for whom yesterday brought an unconquerable surge of memory and loss. The stakes are high for anyone who takes a chance on love. Thirty-five years into their marriage, one person I know visited her husband in the hospital every day for eleven months before she could bring him back home at last. She would lean close to his hospital bed and hold her finger over the breathing tube in his throat for a few seconds so he could speak. Imagine!
And here we are, the morning after Valentine’s Day. The gold-foil box of chocolates is nearly empty, an inch of champagne is flattening in the glass. Today is like any other day. We nurture the spark and try to keep ourselves alive. But how?
I take a clue from the best thirty seconds of my wedding nineteen years ago. Halfway through the ceremony one of us – nobody can remember which one – leaned in a little closer to the other. Just by chance, we had crossed the invisible line beyond which two cannot go without a kiss. Laughter and applause rose throughout the hall and our friend the minister noted happily that we weren’t following the printed program. A few minutes later, on schedule and on cue, we kissed again, twice for one price. Imagine.
Whether you’re with a friend or a new beau or you’re the longest of couples, burn the doilies today and toss the chocolates in the trash. Lean in to listen, lean in to say what you mean, lean in to take care when care needs to be taken. That’s what we promise to do in weddings and what we know we should do for our friends. Up close, you can know and be known. If you want to feel alive, lean in.
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A random selection from more than 300 Michiana Chronicles -- refresh the browser to see another set:
Joe Chaney -- More essays by Joe
Louise Collins -- More essays by Louise
April Lidinsky -- More essays by April
Jonathan Nashel -- More essays by Jonathan
Jeff Nixa -- More essays by Jeff
Ken Smith -- The Morning after Valentine’s Day / More essays by Ken
Jeanette Saddler Taylor --
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About the series
Michiana Chronicles is a series of radio essays by Jonathan Nashel, Louise Collins, Joe Chaney, Jeanette Saddler Taylor, Jeff Nixa, April Lidinsky, and Ken Smith.
Michiana is the region of north-central Indiana and southern Michigan roughly centered on South Bend, Indiana.
Michiana Chronicles airs on Fridays at 7:35 a.m. and 12:30 p.m. on WVPE (88.1 FM), the home of public radio in Elkhart / South Bend, Indiana.
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