8:12 p.m.
Ah....to have reached an age where no kids come running to me to help make a Valentine mailbox! Whew!
Although, honestly, I might be better at it now than I used to be.
Oddly enough, there was no school today for my grandson--parent teacher conferences. He missed every day last week, and his cold/headache/yuck has now been passed to grandma. Whoopee!
What I'm getting at is, he didn't exchange valentines with his classmates. They also didn't have a Christmas program, or lunch with mom on Thanksgiving or trick-or-treats. I don't know what the deal is with this situation. Probably funding. Small school, poor neighborhood.
That's kind of sad, right?
Kids need art and music programs!! This is not cool.
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I believe I should give you all a gift for Valentine's Day. It's not a big, long story, just an evening with my character, Emma, her family, a ghost and a history lesson.
Here it is:
Valentine Knights
A Valentine Vignette by Paula Shablo
Sunday, February 8,
1970
While
the children ran to change from church attire to weekend grubbies, Jill Knight
cleared the dining room table, putting the dishes and platters from Sunday
dinner into the deep double sink. She returned to the room, washed the table
and then turned at the sound of the door opening.
Jack
came in from the garage with his arms loaded with a strange assortment of
items: shoe boxes, construction paper, ribbon and yarn. He had a paper bag tucked
under one arm. Barely arriving at the table before dropping something, he
plopped his goods down and began dividing them into four separate piles.
“Remember
the good old days when only one child was in school?” Jill giggled.
“Oh,
yeah,” Jack grinned. “Last week, wasn’t it?”
“Seems
like it,” Jill agreed. She went back into the kitchen.
Jack
pulled a couple of pots of school paste and jars of glitter out of the paper
bag and set them in the center of the table.
Jill
came back with a plastic table cloth. “Look what we forgot,” she said.
Jack
groaned. “Do I gotta?” he pleaded.
“You
gotta,” Jill commanded, and giggled again.
Jack
started moving things.
Moments
later, with the table cloth in place and each child’s work station equipped
with art supplies, work was ready to commence.
Emma
wasn’t fussed about Valentine’s Day per se, but she never minded an art
project. “What are we making, Mama?” the ten-year-old asked. She already knew,
but figured an explanation for the younger siblings might be in order.
Nine-year-old
Melody sang, “I’m wishing for some Valentines in boxes we make!” to the tune of
Disney’s Snow White’s song “I’m wishing for someone I love”.
“That’s
sweet, Mel,” Emma said.
Melody
curtsied. “Why, thank you very much!”
Dana
eyed the art supplies dubiously. She was seven, and skeptical of any project
involving glue. She did not like to dirty her hands.
Six-year
old Matthew frowned deeply and declared, “Balentines is stupid! I hate girls!”
“Tough,”
Jill told him. “Your teachers have sent notes home with instructions that say
you are all to make Valentine mail boxes for your party on Friday.”
“Phooey
ka-pooey!” Matthew scoffed.
“And
I got a list of the names of everyone in your classes,” Jill continued,
undaunted by her son’s distain. “You’ll be giving valentines to everyone in
your class.”
Emma
gasped. “But Mama!” she cried. “I can’t be giving a valentine to Bobby Robbins!
He’s a twerp!”
“Emma!”
“He
is, Mama!” Melody agreed. “He stole Matt’s Tonka truck and wouldn’t give it back
until Emma gave him a kiss!”
“Melody!”
Emma shouted. “You promised!”
“Oops!
Sorry!” Melody looked crestfallen. “I just don’t want you to give him no
valentine.”
“I’m
not!”
“He
did what?” Jack demanded.
“Nothing!”
Emma cried.
“I
might have to kick his butt,” Jack grumbled.
Dana
giggled. “His butt,” she said. “Butt, butt, butt.”
“That
will do, young lady,” Jill scolded. “Why didn’t you tell us, Emma?”
“Cuz
I can do my own butt-kicking when the time comes,” Emma declared. “And he is not getting a valentine from me, Mom!”
“Well,”
Jill drawled, “the notes say that all children are to receive a valentine from
each of their classmates—”
“Mom!”
“But,
in this case, I’m not going to force you to do it.”
Emma
breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Mama!”
Jack
shook his head. “Little blackmailing sh—” he started.
“Jack!”
Jill warned.
All
four children giggled. They were not unfamiliar with the word their father had
started to say. There were no saints in the Knight household, try as they
might.
The
children sat at their places. “Emma,” Matthew said, “will you cut hearts for
me? Please, pretty please?”
“Sure,
buddy,” Emma agreed. “Hand me some paper, Matt.”
Soon
enough Emma had all the pink and red construction paper. She was the oldest and
the most adept with the scissors. She folded and cut out hearts of various
sizes and piled them in the middle of the table for all of them to share.
“Are
schools still insisting on promoting this nonsense?”
Emma
looked up. Behind her father stood a short, chubby woman with iron-grey hair
pulled back into a fat bun. Loose wisps curled at her temples and neckline. “Oh,
hello,” Emma said. “What nonsense?”
“Celebrating
Saint Valentine’s Day, of course.” The woman put chubby fists on stout hips and
shook her head. “You do know the history, I assume?”
“Um…introductions,
maybe?” Emma chided.
“Oh!
My dear child, you are quite right.”
The
Knight family was at attention by this time. Jill and Jack, who knew many more
of the passed-on members of their clans, were particularly interested.
“My
name is Marvillosa Lujan.” The woman grinned. “I’m a teacher.”
Emma
repeated this, and Jack said, “That’s my Aunt Marvie!”
“I’m
not really his aunt.” The woman shrugged. “I’m his father’s niece. When my
parents died, I went to live with their family, along with my sister and brother.
But we were so much closer in age to the children that we were raised as
siblings. So when our aunts and uncle had kids of their own, we were called “aunt”
and “uncle” instead of cousin.”
“Like
Uncle George,” Emma said.
“Yes.
He’s my cousin. Your grandfather’s nephew, really, but George is older. Your
Grandpa is quite a bit younger than our mothers—his sisters—were.”
Jack
nodded when Emma repeated this information. “Dad had two older half-sisters who
were old enough to get married by the time he was getting out of diapers, I
imagine,” he mused. “Well, George is about six months older than Dad…no wonder they grew up more like cousins than uncle
and nephew!”
“That’s
confusing,” Emma complained. “How am I supposed to keep track of that stuff?”
“Write
it down,” Aunt Marvie commanded.
Emma
blushed.
“What?”
Jack demanded, unable to hear any of the exchange that Emma didn’t share.
“She
really is a teacher,” Emma said.
“Oh,
yeah,” Jack agreed. “A tough one!”
“Hmph!”
Aunt Marvie exclaimed. “A good one!”
Without
any prompting from Emma, Jack added, “I probably learned more from her than
from any other teacher I ever had until college.”
Aunt
Marvie nodded with satisfaction. “That’s more like it!”
“What’s
your beef with Valentine’s Day?” Emma asked.
“Uh
oh,” Jack groaned.
“I
don’t have a ‘beef’,” Aunt Marvie said. “I just object to the fact that it’s
all hearts and flowers and gushy romance, and not one word about how it all
came to be.”
“Like
Christmas and Easter,” Melody agreed, once Emma had passed this along.
“Exactly!”
Aunt Marvie looked excited. “Oh, Jackie, she’s a smart one!”
“She
says you’re smart, Mel,” Emma said.
Melody
beamed.
“There’s
usually a dark and bloody history to the holidays we celebrate, and Valentine’s
Day is no different. Do any of you know the history?”
“Well,
obviously, I do,” Jack said, with a
smug smile. “I paid attention in Aunt Marvie’s class. Or else!”
Jill
smiled. “I never met your Aunt Marvie, but I have no doubt she had her hands
full with you, Jack Knight!”
“You
can say that again,” Aunt Marvie agreed. “But does no one else know the history
of Saint Valentine?”
“Well,”
Jill said, “the Sisters told us that he was a Priest who was beheaded for
disobeying the law and performing illegal marriages.”
“Very
good. Why were they illegal?”
Jill
shook her head. “If I ever knew, I have forgotten it now,” she admitted.
Aunt
Marvie nodded. “So have many,” she said. “It’s just another holiday now.
Another reason to put money into the pockets of rich merchants.”
“Wow!”
Emma said. “That’s harsh.”
“Is
it? Let me tell you the story. Think of harshness as you listen. Think about
how you’d like to remember Saint Valentine in the future.”
Crestfallen,
Emma said, “I’m listening. So will we all.”
“Saint
Valentine was just a man,” Aunt Marvie said, “a good man who believed in God
and in the good Christian church that was becoming stronger in his time. But he
was a Roman priest who lived during the reign of the Emperor Claudius II, who
was known as Claudius the Cruel.
“The
Romans, who were a warrior nation, were always in conflict with one neighbor or
another, always building and rebuilding their great empire.
“All
this fighting required soldiers, and soldiers were being killed with amazing
regularity. As they always are; don’t forget that.
“Emperor
Claudius believed that the men were declining to join his armies because they
were married with children and cared more for their families than for the cause
of adding to the holdings of the Roman Empire. So he authored an edict in all
the land: that it would be forbidden for young men to marry. All marriages and
engagements were officially cancelled.
“Valentine
believed in the sanctity of marriage between a man and one wife only, unlike
the majority of Rome’s population, who lived together in sin or practice polygamy—”
“What’s
polygamy?” Emma asked, and then added, “Oh, excuse me.”
“Polygamy
is when a man has many wives,” Aunt Marvie replied, smiling. “A very good
question.”
“Like
King David,” Melody said.
Aunt
Marvie clapped her hands. “Oh, she’s wonderful! I would have loved to have her
in my classes!”
“You’re
making a lot of Brownie points, Mel,” Emma said.
“Yes,
you’d have made Aunt Marvie a lot happier than I did,” Jack added.
“He
can say that again!” Aunt Marvie said, and everyone giggled when Emma passed
that on.
“This
is all really interesting,” Emma said. “Were people upset that they couldn’t
get married?”
“Well,
you can just about imagine it, I’m sure,” Aunt Marvie said. “Young people fall
in love, and when they are forbidden to be together, why, it only serves to
make them want it even more!
“Valentine
could no more encourage couples to simply live together in sin than he could
tell them to jump off a cliff. The new Christian Church encouraged marriages
within the church, and when the edict was passed, Valentine began performing
marriages in secret.
“Of
course, after a time he was caught and thrown in prison. Claudius the Cruel
ordered that he be beaten, stoned and decapitated in punishment.”
“What’s
decampingated?” Dana asked.
“Decapitated,”
Jill corrected, casting a worried glance at her husband.
“Off
with his head!” Melody said. “Like the Red Queen in ‘Alice in Wonderland’ said.”
Dana
said, “But no one really did that.
Right?” She looked tearful.
“The
Red Queen was just an old grouch,” Emma said quickly. “Valentine was a long
time ago; he’s dead now, that’s all.”
Aunt
Marvie clucked her tongue. “It matters in the wider scheme of things, how he
was put to death. But not to such a young child. I’m sorry, this is a distressing tale.”
“Didn’t
stop her from telling us when we were
six,” Jack said.
“Tell
your dad to mind his P’s and Q’s.”
“Dad,”
Emma began.
“Never
you mind,” Jack said. “I can figure that out on my own.”
Emma
had taken crepe paper and twisted it and then glued it around the top edge of
the shoe box she had covered first with red wrapping paper. “I don’t know why
everything has to be all red and pink and white,” she complained. “I want blue
and purple!”
“Purple
everything!” Dana agreed.
“Them’s
the rules,” Jack grinned.
“Ugh.”
“Can
you do that to my box, Emmie?” Matthew begged.
“Not
all by myself,” Emma told him. “But if you bring it here, I’ll teach you how
and help you.”
“Yay!”
the little boy grabbed his box and ran around the table to his “big sissa”.
Jack
and Jill helped Melody and Dana with theirs, and Aunt Marvie resumed her story.
“Once
Emperor Claudius had had Valentine executed for breaking the law, it was
learned by the Church that he had cured the daughter of a prison judge of her
blindness, and that man converted.
“Before
he died, Valentine wrote a farewell letter to the man’s daughter and signed it ‘From
your Valentine’.”
“Oh!”
Melody cried. “How sweet! Is that why we send cards to our Valentines?”
“So
the legends say,” Aunt Marvie said. “But I feel like it is important to know
why Valentine was granted Sainthood after his death, and why there came to be a
holiday in the first place.”
“Are
she comin’ back to tell stories at Christmas?” Matthew asked.
“Is
she,” Jill corrected.
Matthew
sighed dramatically. “Is she?”
“Well,”
said Aunt Marvie. “You never can tell!”
“Looka
my box!” Dana cried, holding it up.
“Wow,
that’s so pretty!” Everyone exclaimed. She had folded strips of construction
paper and glued hearts on them so they sprang out from the sides of her box.
All
the boxes had turned out pretty, and they finished up by decorating the tops
and cutting delivery slots into them.
“Thank
you for coming, Aunt Marvie,” Emma said, and the whole family echoed her. “That
was a great story!”
“It
certainly was,” Jill added. “And all the time it took to do this work just flew
by. What a wonderful lesson.”
“Happy
Valentine’s Day,” Aunt Marvie said, and vanished.
“Happy—well,
dang!” said Emma.
“Hmm.”
Jack stretched and put his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “Tomorrow
after dinner you have to write all your cards. I hope someone comes to tell us
a story while we do that.”
“Oh,
Daddy,” Emma giggled. “I don’t think I can write and listen and talk all at the
same time if they do that. Are you going to write my cards?”
“I
take it back! I take it back!”
“Let’s
get this all cleaned up,” Jill laughed. “It’s almost time for—”
“‘Hee
Haw’!” the clan finished.
Sunday
evening family time at the Knights.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
The End
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If you have a Valentine, give 'em a hug and have a Happy Valentine's Day!!
Good night!
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