Be My Valentine

The ubiquitous boxes of school valentines sat on the kitchen counter. There were four of them. A box for me, a box for my brother, a box for my sister, and one for my two younger sisters to share. They were all the same, to the chagrin of my brother who claimed they were too "girly". It was 1966, before you could choose a popular cartoon character to express your valentine sentiments to your peers. No transformers "shouting" at you to be a valentine or Sponge Bob Squarepants giggling his way through sappy sentiments. Silly puns and cute, chubby faced children adorned our cards. I did find a treasure in my box, a large valentine with a chubby faced bear stating, "I couldn't BEAR it if you won't be my valentine." It was the perfect valentine for Tony.

Tony was ten going on eleven. I had a major crush on him in 5th grade. Tony had dark hair, a wide face, and was king of the playground. I was a mousy, buck toothed, girl who was always reading. More impossible pairings have happened, but this crush was crushed by Tony's complete indifference to my existence.

Nevertheless, it was Valentine's Day and I wanted to give Tony the largest and most important Valentine in my box. I carefully laid out all the cards and handpicked one for each student in my class. It was like playing chess with valentines. The right saying had to paired with the right person. I signed my name on each valentine, except Tony's. I knew he wouldn't know if I gave him a valentine or not. But I wanted him to have my biggest and best valentine. Love makes us do stupid things! But, I wasn't a complete fool. Regardless of how much I liked Tony, I didn't like him enough to be humiliated in front of the class! The extra large valentine I was offering would be evidence of my affections. No, I had to give it to him anonymously. It was the only way to express my unrequited love without being humiliated!

I can't recall the exact details of this specific Valentine's Day. I remember pink cupcakes, red construction paper and paper doilies. I remember the teacher telling us we could open our valentines at our desks if were quiet and polite. But I remember with clarity Tony's response to my Valentine. He held it up for all to see and called across the room to his friend, "Hey Billy (yes, there really was a boy in my 5th grade class named Billy) look what I got, a Bruin valentine! I'm saving this one!" A bruin, or bear, was the mascot of the high school close to our elementary. Bruins, as the high schoolers were called were cool to Tony. So my valentine, by association, was cool to Tony. A quiet smile spread across my face.

Billy hollered back, "Who's it from?" Before the teacher could shush either one of the boys, Tony hollered, "I dunno, I'm still keeping it." My smile widened, my valentine offering had been accepted and celebrated by my true love! Mousy, insignificant me, who was crushing on the most popular boy in 5th grade, had the best Valentine's Day ever! I didn't care if he did not know who gave him his Bruin valentine. He liked it, and by association, I pretended he liked me. A good Valentine's day indeed!

Dear Andrew,

Three years ago Grandpa D and I flew to California to meet you for the first time! You were a bit tardy on your arrival, so we got to your home about the same time you did! Your mom and dad were adjusting to new parenthood, while being concerned about our comfort and clean sheets! I was quite impressed with how you handled both your parents and your grandparents. You were vocal when you wanted something and serenely sleeping when you didn't. We all had the opportunity to hold you, kiss you, comfort you, and love you, and we didn't think about anything else except your comfort and care.

Grandpa and I attended church the Sunday we were there. We had sluffed Sunday School class. (shhh, don't tell your parents!) I was outside enjoying the California winter, when a train of toddlers walked by, arms folded with serious smiles. There was a boy, about three, at the end of the procession. His sandy hair was slicked back except for a stubborn lock that hooked over his forehead. His tie was a tad askew and his shoelaces were undone. Yet, there was purpose in his stride and a look of determined reverence on his face. His folded arms seemed bolted to his chest as he brought up the rear of the nursery promenade. As the children rounded the corner of the church, I couldn't help but think of the newborn baby boy that lay in my daughter's arms. I pondered the idea of that baby being three, in a crooked tie and undone shoes, working on his reverence with fierce determination. I thought to myself, "Oh, so far in the future, it will take a while for Megan's baby to grow up!" I also felt a twinge of sadness, because I knew I would miss the moments that would shaped the wonderful 3 year old you would become!

Andrew, what seemed like forever, is now here. You are a bright, inquisitive, happy, loving child, who, I am sure is very reverent when you need to be! Your mom and dad are wonderful parents. You are a big brother to Iris. You are three! What I thought would take forever happened in a blink of an eye! The little boy I watched on his reverent march that February weekend has returned to remind me of all that is important. That little boy is you!

I love you Andrew, I am honored to be your grandma. Happy, happy birthday!

Love,

Grandma D

"No TV until your pjs are on"

The routine was the same every winter Sunday evening. As our giant green chevrolet pulled into the driveway, we asked mom, "Can we watch TV?" "TV" was the Sunday evening show, "Wonderful World of Disney." My mother's predictable response, "No TV until your pjs are on." Unfettered by seatbelts (it was the 60's) we climbed over each other and raced to the door, jumping up down like we had to use the bathroom (I think some of us probably did) waiting for Dad to unlock the front door. We thundered up the stairs, oldest to youngest, tugging at our Sunday best, kicking off our Sunday shoes (we inspired Kenny Loggins!!)(Footloose reference) and digging in our drawers for pajamas. We heard our mother's admonition to hang up our clothes, so we kicked them into the closet and raced down the stairs again into the waiting arms of our orange naugahyde couch. The reason for this heated race was the show began right at 7:30, we didn't pull into the driveway until 7:20. We always missed the first important minutes of the show.

One Sunday, my brother Doug and I had a brilliant idea. If we wore our pajamas UNDER our church clothes we could save valuable time getting in position to watch our show. We recruited my sister Gayle to join us. We didn't have a variety of choices when it came to our bed wear. We had summer pajamas and winter pajamas. We knew if we put on our summer pjs and came downstairs we would be sent right back to change. Since the calendar said winter, those were the pajamas we had to wear. Thankfully, the three of us were old enough so pjs with feet weren't part of our wardrobe. But we all had long sleeved, long pants pajamas, and that is what had to go under our Sunday clothes.

As we prepared to get ready for church, my sister and I had an issue that needed solving. Our pj pants showed beneath our dresses. Doug was dressed and pressed and ready to go, as we were still trying to figure out how to hide our pajama bottoms.

"Roll 'em up," he stated. So we did. I remember feeling like a stuffed animal as we hurried to the car. I could feel the pant legs slipping below my skirt. Panicking, I ran back in the house, slid into the bathroom and pulled the pants all the way to my chest. I never entertained the idea of getting caught, but faced with the possibility, I was desperate for anything to hold those pant legs up. I spied some bobby pins on the sink, shoved them into the rolls to hold them up and stiff walked it back to the car. The car horn was honking about now, Dad was mad, Mom was mad, we were going to be late, but the thought of being in front of the TV in record time was worth the wrath!

The one thing the three of us did not allow for was the EXTREME discomfort of wearing two sets of clothes. It was church, so we had to sit still, really still, or else we would get in trouble. The bobby pins were shoving their muted tips into my thigh, the pajamas were itching underneath my dress, one of my pant legs was slipping, I was hot. It was a perfect storm for fidgeting and we didn't dare move a muscle. The sweat began to collect around my hairline after the first hymn. I could feel rivers of water roll down my back by the end of the first talk. The final amen found me sitting in a puddle of perspiration. Doug, Gayle, and I goose stepped it to the car. We were itchy and wet, pant legs were coming undone and we were feeling the terror of being caught.

Again at 7:20 pm our behemoth of a car idled into the driveway. We burst out of the backseat, ripping off our clothes, dancing at the door, flying up and down the stairs in record time. We hit the "on" button. Tinkerbell flew over Sleeping Beauty's castle in all her black and white glory, we did it, we were in our places before the show started. It was worth the sweat, the itch, the insane uncomfortableness, (a real word?) and the threat of mom's wrath. It was so worth it that we did it again the next week and the next, until we really did get caught! Our Sundays of double dressing to preserve our precious TV time were over. Mom wasn't that mad, she even called us resourceful. She did remind us how irreverent we were being by focusing on TV instead of church, a lecture we would hear often over the next decade. Still, I really didn't want to disappoint Mr. Disney by not being there for his show on time! (Click to watch)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttw1buV1GHY