I was born on Valentine’s Day. I wear a little gold heart necklace that my grama gave me on my first birthday. My mom and dad snapped pictures of the big day. I don’t remember a lot of birthdays. Without photos or a journal, I Â forget. Even with the early photos, I don’t have that kind of memory. However, I still have the necklace and that little porcelain angel (left foreground) that says, “Sunday’s Child.” It’s been glued several times, and she’s lost her wings. Must be part of the telestial life. But I’m working on getting those back.
Another Valentine’s birthday, I don’t remember, but I’m happy in pink:
I remember this pink velveteen dress I got one year — maybe I was about 8 years old. Â At school, I remember making mailboxes and handing out little perforated valentines to hand out to classmates. And the room-mothers brought sugar cookies. And lots of havoc.
My sister is showing off her valentines, circa the 1960s:
My mom threw me a party every year with friends and games. This was about 1964 — I recognize my two cousins and neighborhood friends. Those were the years that girls always wore dresses:
At Occidental College, we had the original vintage metal postal boxes on campus — in the student union. Oxy was one of the earliest California universities. My first year, I got a valentine from a guy I had met in my music appreciation class (yea, a filler course amongst the sciences.) It was a valentine like the ones from elementary school. We never dated, and in fact, his track buddy later became my husband. They were on the one-mile relay team together and comrades in all the phases of college life. I married the guy on the right, yea, white leather jacket, green ruffled shirt, and bow tie.
That was the same year that my future husband left me a valentine as well — on my front doorstep. When I returned home from a weekend at our family beach house, I found the white box of Sees candy and three yellow, slightly wilted tulips (they’d been there a day.) I’ve always wondered about the significance of the yellow tulips (red too obvious and suggestive, or yellow was only available.)
There was a little scrap of paper with a note scribbled on it. To tell you the truth I had to think back, who was this guy? A mere acquaintance on campus when I was studying between classes — sitting on the bench in the quad, enjoying the sunshine. I think he had his shirt off. We visited briefly, and when my eyes returned to my book, some girl came up to him and commented — “you look irresistible.” And kissed him. I was amused, thinking, not my kind of guy. I still tease him about that. Who was that girl? He can’t remember, he says.
The clock ticked by, and I had class — an institute of religion class — a class held on campus. I invited him to go, thinking Mr. Irresistible had better things to do and would never show up. The following week he turned up in our class of four students to hear Brother Marriott talk about the three degrees of glory. I was sure that would scare him away. But it didn’t, and he even brought another track buddy the next class (and I wasn’t even there.)
I wish I had saved those two valentines, but I didn’t think there was any future in them. Funny how we save a lot of junk but often miss the ones that become sentimental.
That box of chocolate — I opened it and found, to my delight, it was all dark chocolate, all hand-picked. My favs. Well, that must have been an inspiration. Later, I found out that he re-gifted those chocolates from a girl who had gifted him. No matter, I enjoyed them, and anyway, I was the one that got them. 🙂
The relay team
Occidental College, Los Angeles, CA
The other valentine I received that day — became best man at our wedding; here we are — I like to tease my husband that I could have gone for him instead. Sam is an oral surgeon and one of the kindest people I know, married with a bunch of kids (homeschooled too.) He brought me apricot juice when I was sick one time.
My birthday is easy to remember since it’s linked to a holiday. But even if my husband is out of town and unable to celebrate,
I’m ok with that. One year my missionary son sent me a box of gifts — wow, I was delighted — little trinkets from Czech that I knew he had hand-picked for me. A rock
(yea, I collect them), incense (I’m a proud product of the ’60s), a teddy bear, a movie, a card, chocolate (my fav addiction), and a picture of the sun (
I’m into cosmology).
Originally posted 2014, updated 2020
