Valentine’s Day is upon us.
And according to a fun fact gleaned from the Internet, most of those perky red cards splashed with hearts are not sent to lovers, but to teachers, children and mothers.
However, when I think of Valentine’s Day, I don’t think of a bespectacled professor, an adorable towheaded toddler or a patient, kind mom. I think: Romance, Intrigue, Passion and Reckless Abandon. Pointed, red, spiked, sling-back heels. Valentine’s Day is for the lover in my life – the one I may have trouble living with, but could surely not live without. And History bears me out.
There are differing opinions as to why Valentine’s Day is celebrated in the middle of February.
In France and England, it was commonly believed that mid-February was the beginning of the mating season for birds. And since doves and pigeons mate for life, they became associated with fidelity and commitment. Thus, February 14th became a day relegated for romance and pairing.
I, however, prefer the explanation dating back to 270 AD in ancient Rome. February was considered both the beginning of spring and a time for celebrations. On February 15th a festival took place, dedicated to Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome. A goat was sacrificed in honor of fertility and a dog was sacrificed in honor of purity. Young men would then slice the goat’s hide into strips, dip them in the sacrificial blood, and immediately saunter forth to find young single women. They would gently slap these women with the goat hide strips and the young ladies welcomed this attention because – according to legend – this would make them more fertile in the coming year. (Boy would feminists have a field day with this one!)
As the sun set, all the young Roman women would place their names in a big urn. And the city’s bachelors would then each draw out a name. Each young man would be paired with his chosen woman for one year. Many of these matches often ended in marriage.
This is how years later the English custom evolved of a young girl supposing to marry the first eligible male she met on Valentine’s Day. If she were particularly adventurous, she could greatly help the process along by going to a graveyard on St. Valentine’s Eve at midnight, singing a prescribed chant and running around a church twelve times.
A young maiden’s spunk – her willingness to fill her hand with more than just the cards she has been dealt – leaves me reeling. Maybe Valentine’s Day is not just about smoldering desire and hearts pierced by Cupid by chance. A day for the frivolous-minded with a hedonistic bent.
Maybe it’s more about risk and challenge – breaking out of the mundane to reach for the majestic.
A young man and woman tentatively letting down the barriers, timidly exposing their vulnerabilities, courageously reaching out to each other, even if they are unsure if the attraction is mutual.
A married couple enjoying a dinner out – away from the kids – working at recapturing what brought them to union in the first place.
Empty-nesters reuniting and re-connecting.
Widows and widowers practicing long lost skills of how to strike up a conversation, ask for a date, kiss good-night.
Valentine’s Day, I’ve decided, is not for the faint-hearted.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor
PS: SEVEN MORE SHOPPING DAYS TIL VALENTINE’S DAY ❤️