Then there is the philosophical question. Shouldn’t I love the people I love every day? Shouldn’t I make a habit of appreciating them all the time?
Not to mention the gloating aspect of the holiday: the Haves out there cuddling publicly and the Have Nots scarfing chocolate, posting unwise Craigslist ads, or stubbornly insisting they Don’t Care.
Sure, my antipathy is historical. I was in high school once. Some genius decided to raise money for some Good Cause Club by selling flowers that kids could send to each other. Nothing like the public humiliation of not receiving flowers. Nothing like the private humiliation of receiving flowers from friends but none from that particular person who makes the world seem like the set of a musical. Not to mention the stress of deciding whether to send a flower to that guy and how to word the card so as to convey undying love without opening up the option of further humiliation.
Remaining stuck forever in the scars of high school is probably not a good idea. It isn’t ever a bad idea to tell dear people that they are loved and cherished and appreciated. So for the last many years I have made my own valentines for the kids and more recently for Brent. Brent actually reads my blog, so I’m not going to post his (besides, the inside is kind of mushy…), but here’s the outside of what I made for the kids. Inside, I put silly verses.
They are, in fact, loved. I tell them every day, but I’ll make a special effort just for the heck of it on Valentine’s Day.