Wednesday, 11 February 2009
The V-Day Debate
Ahhh, Valentine's Day. To buy into the canned romance, or loftily scorn it as an exercise in commercialism? To stick a cinnamon-heart-stained tongue out at the cynics and bake heart-shaped cookies or stonily spend the day organizing your sock drawer?
I know Feb 14th has become a marketing nightmare. The pressure to spend is silly. But look at it this way: V-day is an extra chance to celebrate love, friendship, warm fuzzies, whatever. It doesn't have to be done in an expensive or elaborate manner(although planning a V-day scheme of some sort is always half the fun in my eyes). And it doesn't have to feel like canned romance either if you're creative.
I don't care whether you're male or female, young or seasoned, single or matched up. Even if you're a growly old bear who forcibly damns all Valentine celebrations back to Hallmark, you CANNOT tell me that getting a Valentine card - even if it's home-made - on your desk or in the mail doesn't make your gravelly heart soften just a leeetle bit.
C'mon, admit it: didn't you love being a kid, filling out a bunch of those weeny little cards, sticking a paper bag on the side of your desk and gloating over it when it got full?
I partially blame my mother for my constant love of V-day. She celebrated it in style: big construction paper hearts with doilies stuck on every window; cards for my Dad, sister and me along with some sweet treat; an elaborate breakfast table that inluded pink grapefruit halves decorated with a cinnamon heart in the middle, home-made crepes, and the ruby-coloured goblets full of freshly squeezed OJ that only came out on February 14th. We always had to wear something red or pink that day. So did she. I LOVED IT!
So I'm celebrating V-day, people, and I urge you to do the same, even if it's just in some small way. This year I am going all out, Alisa Feick style: I bought some heart decal thingies to stick on the windows, I'm making crepes for D on the 14th, and I'm even going to put on my lucky heart-dotted underwear and bake those delectable, heart-shaped, cream-cheese cookies mom used to make with the pink icing in the middle. If you're nice to me, I might even send you some.
And when I walk the long lane down to my mailbox on Friday, I hope I find a card or two in there from those of you who haven't completely drowned in the mire of anti V-day cynicism.