Kes: Mom Always Said 'Practice Makes Perfect'

You talk about a dilemma. We’re in the first grade. Miss Carolyn Blades has explained clearly (as they are wont to do at that level of education) more than a few times how we are to place a Valentine Card on each desk of our fellow students.

Mom had dutifully purchased a huge pack of cards from the Ben Franklin Five and Dime Store. I randomly pulled out the few I needed. On Valentine’s Day, without even looking at them, I just laid one on the pile of cards that had built up on each desk.

I got down to Bobby Brewer and Millicent Blackburn with the last two cards and thought I ought to turn them over and at least see what I was giving to each one. Both cards read “Hugs and Kisses.”

Ye gads!

I ain’t about to give that card in no way on earth to Bobby Brewer. And it would be even worse to lay that thing on a girl’s desk! Miss Carolyn had “made it a rule” for us to sign our names on each card.

My little heart sank. And you can understand why I am not ever going to be fond of any month that starts with a ground hog and ends two or three days early. And, right in the middle of it, they throw this Valentine gig in to mess up your thinking. 

Somebody once told me the custom started back with the ancient Romans. I have always thought it was a collaboration among a card company, chocolate factory, and the local florist shop down at Third Street and Broadway.

I quickly carried the two awful cards back to my desk and put my five and a half months of formal study to work. We didn’t have magic markers in 1954. But I borrowed an ink pen from Anne Alexander and wrote a capital S in front of hugs and squeezed in a r between the h and u. I marked over the k in kisses with a giant H.

Early in life I discovered Valentine’s Day would put a fella into survival mode.

In the third grade Miss Belle had us make our own cards and write our own Valentine thoughts to our classmates. Good Lord, you wouldn’t think it could get any worse! We broke into pairs, and she gave us a whole afternoon to cut hearts out of red construction paper.

Me and Bobby moved back to the clay modeling table. I was in charge of creating the hearts, which looked more like baseballs with a v cut out of the top. Bobby, who was a lot smarter than me, came up with our “thoughtful and heartfelt” Valentine messages to our classmates.

The best ones were: “Elephants walk early in the morning,” “Butter will make your tongue slick,” and my favorite, “There are no bones in ice cream.” You can readily understand why Bobby Brewer is my best friend to this very day.

Of course, by mid-July between the eighth and ninth grade, me and Millicent were sitting on her grandmother’s front porch, listening to “Theme from a Summer Place” drifting out of the radio. I couldn’t think of one thing to say. But I was wishing all mighty powerfully that I had that unaltered “hugs and kisses” Valentine Card to place in her sweet little hand. 

A couple of years later I went so far as to buy a Whitman heart shaped box of Valentine chocolates for a girl down in Cottage Grove. I casually mentioned to her how some girls were getting a bit puggy these days, thinking I would get the leftover chocolates. On the drive over to the picture show in Paris, she ate every single piece of candy before we got to the theater!

Apparently, those Cottage Grove girls don’t tend toward the sensitive side.

And I still hadn’t mastered the Valentine game.

Until I married Cathy. She made this day work like a charm. She picked out great cards every year to give me. She bought the big sampler box of assorted chocolates. She cooked my favorite meal of cornbread and pinto beans.

Knowing my Valentine's history, you understand my aversion to this “special” day. I didn’t reciprocate much over the years. But, boy howdy, did I ever make it all up to her this Valentine’s Day! It was 51 years in the making.

You should have seen the surprised look on her face when I handed her the complete CD Box Set of every song Faron Young ever recorded. I had even thought to cut out a red heart and place it on the side of the box. Kinda made it an official Valentine gift.

Cathy is still speechless.

I put in the first disc as she was setting supper on the table. We enjoyed the cornbread and beans while listening to Faron belting out, “I want to live fast, love hard, die young, and leave a beautiful memory….”

It took a while, but by golly, I finally got it right!

Respectfully,
Kes
kesley45@aol.com