Thursday, February 14, 2008


I can't remember which of my wacky relations coined the term Valentimes ... could it be the goofy Japanese side or the prone to malapropisms Italian side? It might even have been my offspring J who gets her comic goofiness from her Dad's side and her melancholy from her mom's ... Everyday she reminds me more and more of my dearly departed mother-in-law (sometimes in a very good way) who had an endearingly wacky side. My partner R insists that all children call it Valentimes.

In any event, I love the holiday. Come on ... chocolates, dressing up for dinner or a special lunch, hearts, flowers, special cards? What's not to love? I know some hate it or resent it but I don't. I am a believer. I look forward to the ingenious gifts J brings home from daycare and school. This morning for breakfast, it was an exquisite red paper airplane with a bar of chocolate strapped into it like a pilot and a long green alligator with a gaping mouth which revealed a chocolate bar in his colorful torso for Daddy. This would explain why I was asked (while I was making the breakfast oatmeal) if I preferred airplanes or alligators ...

A CD of retro 80s music from the significant other and a promise of a lunch for two today. I just want give a shout out to my two beloveds R and J on Valentimes Day.

And here is my romantic/melancholy contribution from Edna St. Vincent Millay whose candle burnt brighter than most and which I read every so often, perched on a bulletin board in front of my computer:

Paris April 1, 1922
A mile of clean sand I will write my name here, and the trouble that is in my heart.
I will write the date and place of my birth,
What I was to be, And who I am.
I will write my forty sins, my thousand follies,
My four unspeakable acts ...
I will write the names of the cities I have fled from,
The names of the men and women I have wronged.
I will write the holy name of her I serve,
And how I serve her ill. And I will sit on the beach and let the tide come in.
I will watch with peace the great calm tongue of the tide
Licking from the sand the unclean story of my heart.

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