Valentine's Day, One Day Late

Whoever decided to make February 14 Valentine's Day did not have Ohio in mind when they thought it up. I wanted all the traditional candies–the big Necco hearts with the sayings on them, the red-hot cinnamon little hearts, the chocolates. Oh, yes, the chocolates. But Friday, when I finally made my way through the mountain of snow to the grocery store, the shelves were bare. What's a Valentine's Day without red-hots?

Which got me to thinking about Valentines past. And the Hallmark channel's lineup of Valentine movie offerings. I hauled out the kleenex for Betty White's performance about a World War II soldier who never came home. He was officially listed MIA all the years, until an intrepid reporter tracked down his remains. When Betty was handed his personal effects, there was a weathered, hand-made Valentine she had given him as he was pulling out of the station. He'd kept it close to his heart all those years.

Which made me think about two hand-made Valentines I'd received over the years. One was given to me by another fifth-grader. His hand-made Valentine was different from all the store-bought ones that were also in my bag, and I cherished it as only a fifth-grader can. I recently checked on the man's whereabouts, and discovered he'd just retired from a long career as an art teacher in a high school. I'm sad to say his Valentine to me long ago disappeared. The other one was a Valentine I made for my sweetheart. I used the Necco hearts as my gag line, as it were. I wrote a poem, but instead of writing the words, I put a heart shape everywhere the words were to be. Then, I sent the hearts in the envelope along with the poem, and he had to figure out which heart went where, in order to make sense of my rhyme. That Valentine is certainly not being kept close to his heart, I can guarantee it.

So, as I sit here in my candy-less home, surrounded by snowdrifts on every side, I think about those Valentine's Days I have yet to come. I'm a firm believer in second-chance romance, and I've got a high school reunion coming up. Who knows? Maybe my artist from the fifth grade will be there.

Valentine's Day Aftermath

As many of you know, I work for a greeting card company in order to buy my groceries. There are some perks to this job—food being the big one. And sometimes people ask me for advice on which card would be best for their specific need. Some of my best story lines have evolved from these conversations.

Normally, I don’t mind the work, except at this time of the year. Valentine’s Day is known in the industry as a “Last Minute Holiday.” So, it’s not until the very last few days that the cards begin to sell. And then, after carefully straightening and spacing out the Valentine’s for the week prior to the Big Day, we have to show up at our stores the day after (or in this case, weekend) to destroy any leftover cards.

 

My monthly critique group meets one Saturday a month—yesterday. On the very day my romance writers group meets, I had to skip it because I was busy ripping up or pouring dye on hundreds of beautiful Valentines. As I worked, I thought of all the romance these cards were to incite, and possible plots for my upcoming novels. Pretty pink roses, pink and red ribbons, commemorative bookmarks, heart-shaped stickers, and red and black masculine cards all bit the dust at my hands. The irony of the situation was not lost on me.

What job have you had that prompted stories for you?