Valentine’s Day Hustle

Was it that 40+ years ago Valentine’s Day meant something more? Or was it just because I was 10 years old 40 years ago that it meant something more? It was a big deal back in those days. I mean it wasn’t Christmas or Memorial Day-level big deal, but it was pretty big.

Mom took me to Kmart or Harvey’s and I got to pick out a box of Valentine’s Day cards that would represent me as an individual. These are the cards I wrote my name in, inserted into an envelope, wrote a classmate’s name on the outside, and then dropped into brown paper bags that my classmates and I taped to the front of our desks. This card had to say, “Yep, that’s Hubner alright.” I imagine that the majority of the ones I bought were probably superhero Valentines. The Hulk, Batman, Spiderman, etc…maybe GI Joe or Transformers towards the end of my elementary school run. It was what I was into, so I wanted my Valentine’s card pick to be an extension of who I was in my free time.

Telling kids nowadays what a big deal these card exchanges were to us back then is like explaining some ancient ritual. Even as I’m explaining it now it seems completely foreign. But going through that paper bag full of cards was a huge deal. Was there going to be a secret message from a classmate that liked you? Did someone else snag the same cards as me(of course they did), was I forgotten by one of my classmates? These were the questions that burned in our minds as we got paper cuts opening the razor sharp envelopes to see who choo choo choo chose us.

As I got older I could exchange the card and candy from my mom with maybe an action figure. Or when I hit middle school it was a music cassette request. I didn’t need a heart-shaped box with mystery confections and a card, I just wanted rock n roll. Preferably one with a great power ballad on it so I could be sad that I didn’t have a steady girlfriend. Or maybe to help me pine for some girl in my math class that seemingly didn’t know I existed. The power ballad both soothed AND agitated the lonely teenage heart. Or if you wanted something with a little snarl and bite, maybe Dokken’s “It’s Not Love” would suffice.

I can’t remember if my own kids did the Valentine’s Day card exchange or not. They’re all out of school now, but they were all in elementary school in the 2000s and early 2010s. I do kind of remember my son buying a box of Transformer Valentines, as I think he gave me one with Optimus Prime on it. But I’m going to guess that the exchange of Hallmark cards in school is all but a long retired ritual. It’s way too analog of a thing. Now elementary school kids all have cell phones and probably send things via Tik Tok or Snapchat or one of those spy apps that steal our identity.

These days I don’t buy cards. I think it’s kind of a sham, anyways. At least I tell myself that. Old habits die hard, and any chance to be thoughtful I take it. I buy my wife flowers every year. Not a dozen roses, but something with daisies and maybe one rose. For her birthday every year I’ll buy her a beautiful bouquet from Maple Avenue Florists. A spring bouquet that feels more alive and lasts longer than roses. She appreciates the spring colors, as opposed to blood red that wilt quicker. At this point at 50 years old it’s been ingrained in me to buy something for Valentine’s Day. Damn cherub.

Tonight the wife and I will be getting sushi at Ninja Express(I don’t think Ninjas work there or eat sushi there), then we’ll be seeing 80s/90s rockers Mr. Big. I was more excited about the fact that the tickets were only $20 each than actually watching 90 minutes of pop rock. I’m excited to see one of my favorite guitarists playing on a stage in small town, Indiana(same stage I saw Steve Vai back in 2016), but if I’m being honest I only know their first two albums. And there’s 30 years worth of albums – both with and without my favorite guitarist – so I don’t know how engaged I’m going to be.

Tomorrow morning our new couch is being delivered, then there’s picking up the UHaul in the afternoon and loading all of our oldest’s stuff up in it for the big move Friday. We need to take our sectional apart and load part of that up, while doing something with the rest of it. The next two days are going to be heavy, both physically and emotionally. A bittersweet Valentine’s Day, indeed.

No milk chocolate, all dark.

I’m not getting all maudlin here. Today is for love and lovers and loving lovers. And I guess it’s for revealing one’s true feelings for someone that may not know that you really dig them. So go out and do your thing. Or don’t. It’s a made up holiday to sell cards and candy and flowers. Do with it what you will, ya damn lovers.

“I dig you, Do you dig me?“