“In the Spring a young man's fancy
lightly turns to thoughts of love.” So says
Alfred, Lord Tennyson in his poem, Locksley
Hall. It’s a lovely, emotional
passage that tugs at the heartstrings.
Unfortunately, if you continue reading the poem, that same young man is
apparently betrayed, goes to war, marries some island savage, and sees his world
destroyed by the encroachment of technology and modern society. In other words – a typical love story.
According to many traditions, birds
are said to choose their mates on the 15th of February. That may explain why the Romans chose that
date to celebrate the Lupercalia, when young men would choose a female
companion for a year. It seems that the
names were sometime drawn out of a hat, and the companionship naturally
included sexual relations for that year.
Exactly how the relationship progressed after that is not clear. That tradition continued for some 800 years,
until party-pooper Pope Gelasius I decided to have young adults choose Saints
to emulate for the year.
Most
people know that Valentine’s Day is now attributed to the eponymous Saint, but
even the ordainer of Saints (the Roman Catholic Church) doesn’t seem clear on
who he was. He was either a priest from
Terni, Italy or a bishop from that town who was beheaded on February 14th. Unless he wasn’t. He might also have been (instead or
additionally) a priest who went to Africa and married couples even though it
was forbidden to do so. In any case, we
might think it odd to celebrate the beheading of anyone, though the topic might
cause married men to consider the plight of the male Praying Mantis.
History
suggests that the first Valentine’s Day card was sent by Charles, Duke of
Orleans, who wrote a poem to his wife while he was a prisoner of war in
England. Though he did NOT get beheaded,
he spent 25 years apart from her, then came home to generate 3 children, one of
whom became King Louis XII. There is no
evidence that his card included a cute saying from a superhero comic-book
character, or any solid sugar hearts imprinted with “Be Mine” or “Say
Yes”. The latter were supposedly
invented about 1866, long before sufficient dental care was available to
protect the lovelorn snacker.
This
year, I have heard advertisements for some pretty silly Valentine gifts. One company thinks it’s a great idea to get
your girl (or guy, I suppose) a giant Teddy Bear – something to snuggle with when
you are away. (Something that might be
much bigger and more cuddly than you!)
The makers of MeUndies thinks matching underwear would be a great idea. There are numerous implications I can think
of in this that are inappropriate for a school newspaper. Perhaps the dumbest of all is the ad for
Zyppah, the anti-snoring device. Why
spend a ton of money on dinner, dancing, and a romantic evening, the pitch-man
screams, only to have it all spoiled by your loved-one keeping you awake all
night with their hideous snoring? The
only obvious solution is to plunk down $250 for a large, goofy-looking rubber
mouthpiece that will let them sleep quietly (while you go hug your giant Teddy
Bear).
I have
frequently stated that I am no expert on the subject of love, but looking at
some of these Valentine’s Day items makes me feel a lot better about that. Some of the ideas people have constructed to
make the event special are perfectly silly.
The reality is that love is not part of an event, and certainly not a
once-a-year thing, it is just a simple every day sort of thing. As the Ancient Greeks knew, there are many
different types of love (spousal, parental, neighborly, best-buddy, Reese’s
cups, etc.) and we haven’t set aside special days for each of them. So, if I’m supposed to offer advice here, the
advice is: Don’t wait for one particular day to do important things like tell
people you love them. Do it every single
day. Maybe there will be fewer
beheadings.