Valentines Day, Not Just For Sweethearts
How to make Valentines Day sweet, regardless of your current romantic status
Think back to Valentine’s Day when you were in High School and of all the hormone-hopeful dreams of that “someone” finally noticing you on this sacred and fated day. Or of anyone noticing you.
My student council perpetuated these dreamy sentiments by organizing a rose campaign. For a dollar (no loonies back then), you could order a single rose to be delivered to your target of admiration on February 14th during the homeroom period. Along with the rose you could attach a message and if you dared, reveal your name.
All those who had a “steady” were guaranteed at least one rose. And, God-forbid, if you forgot to send one, well, there goes your steady-status. Some elected to have the rose reveal a secret crush with the hopes that a romantic relationship could advance. Some enjoyed sending roses as a secret admirer and that was a pretty exciting mystery for many to decipher. Needless to say, this student council initiative created quite a commotion within the student body.
As a minor-niner, this tradition was exciting and new to me. I skedaddled into Homeroom when the bell rang with eager anticipation of how this rose thing would all play out. There was so much talk about it all week in the lunchroom. I waited through opening exercises on the PA system and no roses were delivered to any of us in Mr. Roach’s homeroom. I wondered if maybe Grade 9s were just too low on the totem pole to have the confidence to send one and too insignificant to the seniors to be graced with one. Homeroom period ended.
First period science class began and there was a knock on the door. In came two really cool and super cute student council seniors with massive bundles of roses in their arms. The teacher let them in and they began to call out the recipients of the roses. As each name was called, the rose-receiver blushed and got to walk all the way up to the front like a winner from a beauty pageant. We all oohed and awed as each went up with the occasional teasing sounds, especially when a boy got one. Some people even got to do the rose pageant walk multiple times!
I waited for my name to be called with both dread of the attention as I imagined myself venturing to the front of the room and with exhilaration and hope that I had an admirer.
The rose pile dwindled to none and my dramatic surge of adolescent hormones brought me to conclude that the thorns from the roses had stabbed into the love potential of my emerging heart. Having been a teenager for a year and a half now, I understood the critical importance of saving face. I knew I had to muster up enough courage to put on a face that said, “I didn’t want one of those dumb roses anyway”. Even better, I had to act like I never noticed I had been passed over.
I thought my acting performance was quite stellar. I continued my science work with a cheerful look on my face and giggled (a little too much) as the characters beside me made fun of a teacher.
Herbie Wong saw through my masked emotion. Herbie Wong my lab partner. Herbie Wong who had lived at the end of my street, went to kindergarten and every grade since with me. Herbie Wong continued to be my friend that day.
He looked me straight in the eye and declared, “You deserve a rose. This will never happen again”.
And he was right.
Every Valentine’s Day until the very end of High School, I always got at least one rose.
Love, Herbie.
Each year, because of Herbie, I am reminded of tender hearts held by friendship.
I am reminded that I need to look out and find out who needs a rose. And then I have to send it.
Roses take many forms. It could be a short text beginning with “Remember the time when we…”. A rose might look like a zoom call, a bike in the park, ice cream or simply an ear that is listening.
You have a few days left to decide who needs a rose and to send it. And if you miss the deadline, there is nothing better than an unexpected “rose”.
ADDENDUM
Herbie and I never dated but we did fish for chub, share rides on his “Big Wheeler” and my favourite memory was driving around as cool teenagers in his rust coloured Mazda RX7 singing the songs from Meatloaf at the top of our lungs! We were sure we were the envy of many.
Herb continues to respect and fight for the needs of women through his Gynaecological practise as Dr. Herb Wong.
A “Big Wheel” was a really cool tricycle-like bike that had a grow-with-me seat, low centre of gravity for safety and most importantly it had an oversized front wheel for fact action peddling (according to the ad I found on the internet). Look it up. It was the coolest thing next to a real motorcycle that a 4 year old could sport!
As a point of pride, I will mention that I went a long way from going roseless in Grade 9 to Prom Queen in Grade 13. There were some very lovely girls in the race that year (I mean that sincerely) but I think I won because for my “talent” in the election assembly, I sang a song called “Friends” (by Michael W. Smith). During the song, I played slides on a screen featuring friend groups from around the school. I meant every word; friends were/are so important to me. “Friends Are Friends Forever...and a lifetime’s not too long to live as friends”.
Yes, we had Grade 13. And no, it was not the same thing as OAC.
Message to Herb: This post is my rose to you. I am proud of your accomplishments and I am so thrilled you found such a beautiful wife to love you in the ways you deserve and who has the intellectual chops to keep up with you! Thank you, my friend.
