Growing up in Louisa – Valentine!
Weekly feature . . . by Mike Coburn
What does a little kid know about love? The lucky ones know they are loved, but it likely is defined as ‘cared about,’ ‘important,’ etc. The romantic concept is picked up from the media and pure observation of the relationship between parents, or perhaps older siblings who act out carelessly in front of their juniors. We also got ‘love’ stories in school during reading times, and just maybe we felt an undefined attractiveness to certain others in our class.
Regardless, at our teacher’s instruction that seemed always to occur at this time of year, we little bunnies were set busy at coloring and cutting hearts out of colored paper. Sometimes we’d glue several pieces together to make a red heart on a colored background. Some lucky ones had lace they could work into their masterpiece. These were the homemade variety meant to resemble the store-bought ones that were handled by the corner store, or the ten cent store. I suspect kids these days either buy packets of cards, or download them from the web.
Back then, once we made them, signed them, and wrote the recipient’s name on them, they would be ready to mail. Of course we didn’t have the three-cent postage (don’t you wish?) or a home address, but that didn’t matter. We’d simply mail them in our classroom depository that was fashioned out of a cardboard box and decorated. We’d make one for mom to take home, but otherwise teachers watched to insure that we each had made a card for everyone in the class. This was to avoid hurt feelings should someone be left out, or not receive as many as others. I have to confess that in those early days I was fairly sensitive and might have broken out with ‘out of control’ crying at the first sign of an injustice. There were likely others that were just as sensitive.
I remember that the classroom ‘mailbox’ was decorated and placed on a table in our classroom. It was still just a decorated box, but the teacher had added a mail slot on top. This was enough to set our imaginations to work with the idea we were ‘mailing’ the cards, just like grown folks. Each of us would take our stack of proudly finished cards, show them to the teacher, and put them through the slot. On Valentine’s Day the box was opened and the cards were passed out to each of the named students. We could be fairly sure we’d get the same number of cards as the classmate next to us, so no one would either get too many, or too few. That was okay with me because it also gave me a level of security that I wouldn’t be left out. I could also give cards to those really special classmates without fear they’d think I was making a move on them. I’m guessing they were still too young to question motives, which was good.
The hard part about this card business was that there might have been one or two kids that I didn’t like, but by rule they would still get a card from me. I decided to fix that by still sending them a card, but not signing it. As it happens the teacher noticed the ‘oversight,’ so I had to find a new solution. Hmmm. So the idea occurred to me that I could simply make duplicates for the one’s I really liked, but to insure that I had the right total number, I could skip the ones I didn’t. After thinking of this as a devious trick, I decided that it wasn’t the ‘high road,’ that mom was always trying to drum into my head. My Sunday school was the same way. Because of this guidance, I was able to figure out some of these difficult ethical issues. This one was setting off all the alarms. You see, deep in my heart, I knew someone would end up with hurt feelings when they discovered they had been shorted. Being absolutely brilliant, I also figured out that if they checked the roster, they’d soon know who didn’t send them one. So I took that high (and healthy) road, and made a nice card for everyone. It was the Christian thing to do.
Looking back, I wondered to myself, if there was someone that was really special. Nope, I was too young for that, not that there weren’t several really cute, little girls that I felt worthy of my watching and admiring. The problem was that I doubted they thought that highly of me. You see, I had no personal illusions that I was handsome, socially polished, or that I might be confused by someone as a ‘knight in shining armor.’ I figured that when concerning sending Valentines, a socialistic, all-encompassing approach would work just fine. Maybe the teachers knew something about this ‘love/like’ thing, after all. I agreed with myself to fool them by treating ‘em all equal! They were all valentines!
As I continued to grow, I really wasn’t shy or withdrawn, but I wasn’t particularly wary about playing or joking with those darling powder puffs. They could be fun, but not a love interest. That was way too risky. The problem was that I felt I was a rung or two lower on life’s ladder as relates to good looks or cleverness. Therefore, the chance of being rejected was pretty likely. Because of that fear, I wasn’t the kind of guy that would draw a heart on my notebook and add a set of initials. Neither did I expect to see my initials on a girl’s notebook either. I didn’t want the stress and let down that surely would follow. I figured it was dangerous to my self-esteem if I ‘liked’ someone and it was not returned. Why even take the chance? Also, I do remember some doing that, but then all the other kids would tease and point.
To protect my own heart from suffering, I was determined never to ‘cross that line’ and expose my feelings. It would only expose me to scorn and outright rejection. Even up into my early teen years I preferred to avoid the risks of asking a girl out, (she’d say ‘no’) or walking one home. Other fellows in my class had long formed relationships, however innocent, with girls. They had ‘held hands,’ or maybe even stolen a smooch! Inside I wanted that, too, but I dismissed the idea as unsafe folly. I found that if I focused on reading books, practicing music, playing sports, going to movies, or roller skating, that I might stay out of trouble. I’d just stay distracted, happy, and busy. That was a hedge of protection for my sensitive heart. I wasn’t the only one like that, you know. I occasionally met others that were kindred spirits, having the same internal struggles. My heart really went out to them, but I didn’t have a clue as to how I could help either them or me.
So what did Valentine’s Day really mean to me? It was a time where I would just cut up hearts and glue them as directed. I counted them, double-checked the names, and put them in the big box. I couldn’t afford to see the cards as any more than a class assignment, or an expression of art. They were just paper.
It was late in high school when I finally began to break out of that self-imposed protective shell. With a few minor successes, I quickly lost sight of my past fears. Along the way, I’m afraid, I also forgot the lessons I had learned about other people’s feelings that I should have known all too well. I’m afraid I may have made life less than perfect for some of those I dated. Sadly, I was sometimes manipulative and rude. I hadn’t ridden in on the white charger of fairy tales, but I rather, figuratively speaking, I had backed in on one ugly, smelly mule. I behaved as I wished I wouldn’t. It was as if some unfair game was afoot leaving sadness in its wake. I wasn’t anyone’s valentine. I didn’t even like me.
As I matured, I finally came to a place where I truly fell in love. It would be some years later when I met a certain young lady and married her. It was a couple of years later when I looked up and saw her holding and nursing my new infant son. That picture of her burned in my mind and really changed my outlook. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a ‘kind of love’ for her before, but now the totality of my love for her was beginning to materialize. A brand-new feeling washed over me and like the Grinch of Christmas, my heart grew several times that day. I saw more than a baby and his mother. I saw my very best friend, my partner, my lover, and my true valentine. Over time my love for her has grown even more. Now, we finish each other’s sentences and anticipate what the other wants or needs. Often I turn to ask for a drink or something, only to look up and see she had anticipated my wish and had the item in hand. Over the years, that love has grown to include more children, and a grand gaggle of grandchildren, and even a great grandchild. Each represents a love so fulfilling and dear that the thought sometimes brings me to shedding tears of joy.
I am blessed, too, to have seen my children grow up and marry wonderful loves of their own. I see them doing the right things to keep love alive in their home and in their hearts. As a result, the grandchildren are also blessed by seeing a model of how to live. They are growing up in homes where love reigns. They are so much richer for it! These, too, are my valentines and they know it.
Suzie and I usually sit alone most nights after supper and watch some favorite Hallmark movies. These tearjerkers keep me in touch with the courtships and struggles of youth of today, but remind me, too, of how very blessed I am. My darling wife sees to it that a box of tissues is always at hand since I am sure to react to the happy endings. Even if those shows are somewhat predictable, I still tear up as if it is part of the script for me to reach for a tissue. When Suzie and I take a ‘date night’ out, the meal is secondary, for it is the companionship that truly enriches our lives. This, and memories of the past continue to help us grow together. I no longer guard my feelings or build hedges around my emotions. We are richer because we acknowledge each other and we allow ourselves to be ourselves; yet, still we are one. Valentines are no longer just paper objects. They are real expressions of love, honor, and respect. Suzie deserves nothing less.
Like all other families, we have our struggles with life’s problems. There are fears, disappointments, accidents, failures, and health troubles. Some days I might be a grouch, and some days she’s tired or overwhelmed. These things aren’t brought on by love, but the ability to withstand them and deal with them in proper ways has everything to do with the very foundation of our relationship. Love and caring gives us a platform of trust and an assurance that we are not alone. Lest I mislead you, let me say that our faith in the Almighty makes our love possible. He is the real model of how to love. Every day we live is another Valentine from Him. Valentines are to be shared and given out freely. They should be more than a bit of paper, and yes, they should go to everyone.
Therefore, I would not dare write all of these rambling thoughts and leave you readers out of the mix. You are important to me, too, especially when you give me feedback. Therefore, please accept this article as my Valentine to you, sent from my heart. Thank you for the loyalty you give when you read this column. Oh! Yes, before I totally sign off, “Happy Valentine’s Day!” Now it’s your turn to remember somebody with something from your heart.