My mother used to celebrate Valentines Day like it was a serious holiday. It was a day to celebrate love. It was also a celebration of chocolate. My mother had her favorite – Russell Stover Ambassador Candies. She wouldn’t accept less. My dad used to run down the Rexal’s Drugstore in Ardsley Village and pick it up first thing in the morning with a bunch of roses before it was too late. Then, she’d sit happy as a clam picking through the vast assortment of chocolate nibs.
She would buy me a small heart box of candies herself, along with a Hallmark card designed to hold money and signed checks. My mother was Jewish. Not to perpetuate a stereotype, but I will: She loved to give you a little something. It could be a few dollars, a ten, a twenty, a few twenties. She saved it up in pouches of cash envelopes from the bank. She budgeted her money that way. Although she wasn’t the most religious lady in the world, she did inherit the uncanny ability to slip you a few dollars in thanks, or because she loved you. One time she tried to give my friend Marie a few dollars just for coming by and acting as witness to the signing of her will. When she refused to accept it, my mother brought out food instead. Marie took the food.
I don’t have a Valentine this year. In fact, I never really do. Not that I’m complaining. Life has always been a solitary one for me, and no matter how much I like a guy, he always seems to like someone else more. At my age, I realized that some people are not meant to share their lives with anyone. And when I realized that – it seemed to take off the burden. I’m meant to do others things in this world, share the love in other ways. That’s why I write, and am working to help others write too.
Valentines Day on a Saturday. Nice. I’ll buy some cupcakes at Crumbs or perhaps a little box of chocolate, and re-watch my favorite episode of 30 Rock. It’s the one where Liz Lemon, boyfriend-less, decides to spend the day getting root canal. “Happy Valentines Day No One!” she says in her goofy anesthesia haze, after mistaking the nurses for boyfriends past – Jason Sudeikis, Jon Hamm and Dean Winter – and before making out with a plant she thought was Jon Bon Jovi.
Happy Friday Everyone!