Of Love and Martyrs

Today is an odd sort of holiday. Valentine's Day commemorates either the feast day or the death day of some St. Valentine. It could be one of three St. Valentines. The Church is not terribly clear which it might be. All were martyred, either beheaded or imprisoned and tortured. And either St. Valentine defied the government by conducting secret banned marriages or wrote the first valentine to his sweetie from prison (I thought saints were not supposed to have sweethearts, though). In any case, it's confusing. In any case, it's not exactly a pretty hearts and flowers story. And I'm not sure whether hearts came to symbolize love because the heart is St. Valentine's symbol, like St. Lucy who had her eyes plucked out and has to carry them around on a plate forevermore, in every depiction of her. We think the heart is such a natural symbol of love, but why? Because it pumps the lifeblood to all parts of out body? But then, why isn't the symbol of love hands, with which we can touch our love, or lips with which we kiss them? There are many other mysteries surrounding Valentine's Day, such as why it makes kindergarten teachers crazier than any other holiday. The kids are wild over it. More wild over it than Christmas, even. Another mystery is how chocolate came to be associated with Valentine's Day. I'm happy about that, though, however it came about.

My Valentine's Day this year was no less confusing. I wrote the above on the actual day, before being embroiled in no end of aggravation. In the midst of writing the above post, Sparky asked if I could move my car. The previous night, drenching rain had fallen over about six inches of fresh snow. All was sheeted over ice on V Day. And the town plow had thrown snow and slush onto the driveway, and on and under my car. All the mess had frozen solid, and I broke the shovel trying to extricate my poor car. I managed to back it out a few feet, so one tire was on the road, but the rest of the car was irretrievably mired in ice. I thought, I'll just call AAA. I did, and was told someone would come within an hour. So far, so good. But just before the hour was up, I had another call from AAA, saying that they were confused about where the car was. Was it in Hampshire or Berkshire county? Well, it's right on the line, the mailing address in one county, and the actual driveway in the other. It seemed that the closest towing company didn't want to send a driver, and it would take another two hours, at least, for the further one to come. I said, forget that. The nice woman on the phone (who was in Hampshire county) said she'd see what she could do. Shortly thereafter, I got a call from AAA in Berkshire county, some weird guy telling me what I requested wasn't a service AAA provided at all. "AAA doesn't pull out cars that are stuck in five inches of ice?" "The drivers can't drive into unshoveled driveways." "But they don't have to. One quarter of my car is already in the road." "Doesn't matter. It's not a service we provide." So I was back on the phone with Hampshire county AAA who said it was a service they provided. And on, and on.
I ended up wasting most of the day on this idiocy, and Sparky ended up pushing my car out with his car, denting the bumper in the process. One word could sum up our Valentine's Day at that point. AAArrrgh!
But then, Sparky made me chocolate covered strawberries. We went out to see a movie (Chocolat), but the theatre didn't have our online reservation. They couldn't say if the tickets had been charged to Sparky's card, so we decided to go out to dinner at our current fave restaurant. They were very nice, although we had no reservation. We met wonderful, interesting people at the bar while waiting for a table, and then when we were seated. Everyone we encountered was in a fine mood, enjoying the holiday of lovers. We ate good food. We seemed to finally be in the right place in the universe.
So, I think our memorably fine Valentine's evening was due to our persistence in refusing to be martyrs. Going on with our day, assuming our luck would change. Some days, that's all you can do. And writing about your experience of changed luck can make you feel better about your AAArrgh times. Do not pass go, do not call AAA, refuse to be a martyr. Persist in going directly to the place you most need to be. Then write it, draw it.