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Concentric hearts design
Ahh, Valentine’s Day. How do we love thee? Let me count the ways. That is, people in love, falling in love or thinking about love. February 14—like the state of Virginia—is for lovers. Always was. Always will be.
Memories of this singular day—observed for St. Valentine and dedicated to choosing or complimenting sweethearts—are special to me and millions of others who agree that love makes the world go round. Of all our holidays and annual celebrations, perhaps none mixes fun and sentiment quite as well.
Everywhere you look on February 14, there are hearts and flowers and sweetness. Colorful cards and kisses are exchanged, and love is in the air. Indeed, in a life chock-full of romance, candle-light dinners, scenic rendezvous and all manner of exciting romantic interludes, Valentine’s Day retains a unique place in my heart of hearts.
For example, my late Milwaukee father and mother—Sanford and Juanita Carter—were married on Valentine’s Day in 1934. But I really didn’t grasp the significance of this wonderful confluence of dates until their Silver Wedding Anniversary in 1959. And what a day it was.
Surrounded by a large number of their many friends in our home at 1817 N. First Street, love was everywhere as my parents were presented with countless gifts of silver—including hundreds of silver dollars. Decorative red valentine hearts and cupids of all sizes were strewn throughout the big house, many festooned with silver dollars. It was happier and more joyous than any Christmas I’d ever known.
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Perhaps my best memory of that occasion was listening starry-eyed as Mr. Carter—a great baseball player in the Negro Leagues—regaled the well-wishers with some of his exploits, including when he hit a triple off legendary Leroy “Satchel” Paige in Bismarck, North Dakota, in 1935. And then hearing some old-timers insisting that “Sandy Carter would have made the major leagues” if he’d come along a decade later.
For my folks’ Golden Anniversary, on Valentine’s Day in 1984, there was a huge celebration at a local hotel with many of the same guests—and then some—who gathered 25 years earlier. As soon as the party ended, my wife, Janice, and I, took them, still in love at 72 and 73, to Hawaii, for a vacation to end all vacations. And there’s nothing like Valentine’s Day, or a wedding, in that paradise.
Over the years, a number of people I know have been very fortunate to find love with a special man or woman and keep it through thick and thin. Then there are some, like me who found love with the woman of my dreams, lost it, and found it again. Perhaps we are even more fortunate.
When true love appears, it’s usually because the time is right. Indeed, a man or a woman may be floundering—seeking direction and wondering what it will take to love and be loved. And then, out of nowhere it happens, and your heart soars. You find the love of your life. It’s happened to me, and I will be forever grateful.
Aside from the infamous Valentine’s Day massacre in Chicago in 1929, February 14 seems to bring out our best and bounciest. It also presents a dilemma when it comes to picking out that special gift for that special someone. I mean, there must be something besides the usual run of heart-shaped candies and heart-shaped gold lockets—which brings to mind yet another of my special Valentine’s Day memories.
A few years ago, as a columnist with the New York Daily News, I always looked for a unique aspect of special events or special days about which to write. On one occasion, my quest took a very unusual turn.
A packet of materials in my office mail led me to an unusual little shop on the East Side of Manhattan which the owner called an “erotic emporium.” A sex-can-be-fun-style boutique, it specialized in put-ons and practical gifts. Included were clothing items such as decorated boxer shorts and G-strings, novelties such as breast-shaped bed pillows and a slew of board games with names like “Sexual Trivia” (can you name the mistresses of three Presidents?), “Sexual Lotto” and “Fore Play.”
For Valentine’s Day, the three-room store was replete with red hearts, and its biggest sellers were holiday baskets containing specially shaped chocolates; champagne glasses stuffed with red silk shorts; a unique necktie; men’s bikinis packaged like long-stemmed roses and lots of humorous, sexy greeting cards. Needless to say, the column was one of my most popular and resulted in many mostly positive letters from readers.
Finally, Valentine’s is the birthday of late civil rights activist, Julian Bond—born February 14,1940. Who can forget when a youthful Bond burst upon the scene in the turbulent 1960s. As a Georgia state senator, he led a successful insurgent delegation to the 1968 Democratic convention in Chicago and was the first black person nominated for Vice President. A serious, loving man I remember on Valentine’s Day.
Those were the days, my Milwaukee friends, we thought they’d never end. Happy Valentine’s
