Ricky kicked me twice! I think I'm in love.

I remember in elementary school it was customary that all the kids exchanged Valentine's cards with each other. It was a very kind-hearted gesture. All my classmates would receive one of those flimsy, short valentines with cute sayings and simultaneously I would receive one from every classmate. No envy, no playing favorites, no hard feelings amongst us short, happy people. If we "liked" someone more than others we'd hand him/her the largest or corniest card of the set. And if it was true love then we'd pinch, shove or zealously tag them at recess.

Some samples of corny Valentine's Day cards of yesteryear.

Those were the days when February 14th was an innocent card-signing, giggly day. Valentine's Day during puberty ushered in the first signs of cynicism. "Dude, this 'holiday' really sucks! It's like so superficial and pointless." This was one way of easing the pangs of my first social rejection; I hadn't been asked to the Sweethearts' Dance and even if I had, my Greek parents would have refused my participation in anything involving boys, girls, hearts and cupids. All the deep red and bright pink decorations in the gymnasium yelled "bordello" to them and no way would they send their nice Greek daughter to one of those.

The older I got, the more I was convinced that Valentine's Day was a florist's and candy shop owner's jackpot. Somehow I can't help but grin at the thought of kids and teenagers waiting for that kick in the shin from their special someone at recess or finding a rose stuck in their locker's vents. I smile in syrupy reminiscence and secretly hope hubbie will remember to buy me a single gardenia, my favorite flower, for this silly day... otherwise I'll pinch him really hard.