Attribution: Photo by Laura Ockel on Unsplash
By Geoff Carter
When I was in elementary school back in the early 1960s, St. Valentine’s Day was the day that brought life and color—and candy—to the gray slushy doldrums of grade-school winter. Everyone would attach manila envelopes with our little names block-printed on the front —our “mailboxes”—to the fronts of our desks. Then, on the fateful day, all of us would flit around the room like the little cherubim we were, spreading love and friendliness and cheer to our fellow students in the form of pre-printed Valentine’s Day Cards that we deposited in the appropriate mailboxes.
In those days, we gave cards to our friends, the cool kids, and maybe—maybe—to the girls or boys we might have been crushing on. We were not required to make out a card for everyone. And, of course, as a result, some of the kids received only a few token cards; a few just one or two. There were any number of reasons for these slights, most of them arbitrary or goofy:
“He eats his boogers.”
“He smells funny.”
“She’s stupid. She says stupid stuff.”
Which, of course, didn’t make it any less hurtful to the underloved. By the time my daughter got to school, students were required to give everyone in their class a card. While the children can still favor their best friends and crushes, everyone is recognized. The love is all around.
For adults, this has become a holiday celebrating romantic love; kids still do their card thing, but for grown-ups this is all about significant others. So it is not only platonic love, companionship, or friendship being observed; sex is rolled up in there, too. Which, historically, is fitting.
The origins of Valentine’s Day can be traced back to the ancient Roman festival of Lupercalia, a drunken orgiastic romp. Animals were sacrificed, sexual partners were chosen by lottery and paired off for the duration of the festival; there was something for everybody. Later, of course, as they sometimes do, the Christians cleaned things up. They renamed the holiday in honor of two martyrs named Valentine executed on February 14th by Claudius II, and the festival eventually morphed into a sweeter and more respectable holiday. And then the Americans got hold of it.
If St. Valentine’s Day is a time to proclaim or affirm your love, Americans seem to be able to do it in only one vernacular—money. Flowers, candy, dinner, gifts seem to be how we show love, devotion, and all of our more noble emotions. According to the National Retail Federation, the average American will spend $185.51 for St. Valentine’s Day. And of course that then begs the question: what are we paying for?
Are the sordid origins of St. Valentine’s Day shining through the thin Christian veneer of decency and romantic love? Are our offerings of love actually hidden payments for pleasures of the flesh?
Or do we simply spend all this money because it’s easier to buy pre-packaged feelings rather than demonstrate the genuine sensibilities in our hearts? Love is hard, but relationships are harder. Valentine’s Day is a convenience; we can affirm our commitments for the price of a dinner, a dozen roses, or a box of candy. We don’t have to proclaim our love, demonstrate it, or prove it. All it takes is a card—not a Valentine’s Day card, but a credit card.
Love can be beautiful, sublime, delicate, or fleeting. It can be agonizing, messy, or harrowing. It’s not simple and it’s never the same. To encapsulate these feelings in a red heart-shaped box, to mass-produce these sentiments, is to ultimately deny them.
It’s not the same for everyone; some get valentines, some don’t. But at least now, in today’s classrooms, that’s something our children don’t need to know. Not yet. There’s plenty of time for that.