Thursday, February 14, 2013

The Worst Valentine(s) Ever: A Child’s Story


Today I got to thinking about past Valentines Days. They have been mostly special – colorful  cards with cupids and hearts; flowers; candy; dinners out; and the occasional jewelry gift. All very nice.

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There's one Valentine’s Day burned into my memory, even after all these years. I was in third grade and February 14 was a day of excitement and anticipation at school. A card exchange followed by pink cakes, heart candies and sweet red punch in paper cups made the day special.

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Remember those little boxes of small Valentine cards you bought at the five-and-dime? Twenty-five or so tiny cards with envelopes, each with a different picture and message inside, purchased for about a dollar.

Anyone who showed up at school on Valentine’s Day having forgotten to bring cards was allowed to scoot down to Otto Williams General Merchandise store in the village during recess to pick up a box. If he had any left on the shelf, he'd give it to the child on a promise they'd bring him the money the next day.

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For the party, teachers provided lunch-sized brown bags, crisp and new, for the “Valentine Mail Boxes." They were distributed and each student lettered his or her name on the bag and pictures were added according to individual artistic abilities. The bags were then lined up and thumb-tacked beneath the row of windows on one side of the classroom. At the appropriate time, students would drop Valentines into each classmate's mailbox. It was customary to give a card to each student, like them or not.

Lunchtime in the school cafeteria came and the party would soon follow. I was a somewhat picky eater during childhood, and  known for trading a food on the school lunch plate I didn’t like for something better. Most of the time I was successful in this little game.

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On this day, one item on the plate was a peach half canned in sugar syrup – one of my favorites. No sooner was I seated than I began bartering. Canned beef. Ick. Traded that for a peach half. Yeast roll: swapped with Larry for his peach. I had three peaches and only peas and carrots remained. I asked several children, but none were interested.

I was getting fairly desperate, as everyone was seated and the teacher had said the blessing. Eating was about to begin.

Sitting directly across the table was a plump little classmate named Louie. I had asked him once, then twice to trade. Nothing doing, he replied.

I should point out that I was a shy girl, not at all given to loud talking. But in a final act of desperation, I cried out, “Louie, honey, please give me your peach!”

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Dead silence followed, for I had shouted loud enough that all 27 students heard. Immediately, raucous laughter erupted. I was mortified. Had I really said that?

And to Louie? He was a sad little guy, quite round and the class slow learner -- often ridiculed by the other boys (you know how cruel children can be!).

After the laughter died down, I slunk down in my seat and tried to disappear. I knew there would be much taunting to come. But at least it was over.

Or so I thought.

Back in the classroom, we were told it was time to distribute our Valentine cards. I noticed there was quite a bit of activity and huddling. It seemed everyone had waited until the last minute to prepare. Odd. Little did I know what was about to come my way.

You see, there was a plot devised by the “class clown” (everybody had one of those, right?) which consisted of having everyone pull from their stack their cards addressed to me, open it, mark through their own name, and write below: “Love, from Louie Honey.”
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So that year, 27 Valentines placed in my third grade Valentine Mail Box bore the signature of Louie – one really from him and the others bearing the dreaded phrase I had shouted in the cafeteria. All for another silly peach half, which I didn’t get after all.

I don’t like peaches canned in sugar syrup to this day. Every time I see them I remember that day. Poor Louie, he left before the end of grammar school and I heard he died at a very young age. 

16 comments:

  1. Dear Sanda, thank you for sharing your sweet and unforgetabble little valentine story, which you tell so well. Childhood is really a bittersweet time; I remember blurting out the answer very loudly in class once, thinking all the others would join in. Alas, I was the only one. Dreadful blushing followed.
    Love your cute nostalgic illustrations.

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    1. Can't help but recall this incident each year when Valentine's Day rolls around. We could embarrass ourselves so easily back then and it felt mortifying. Guess that's why we remember them after all these years.

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  2. I have the feeling that young children today do not suffer these embarrassments like we did, they are much more together and knowledgeable. It is a sweet story, but sad that Louie had such a short life.

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    1. I agree with what you say, Rosemary. They grow up with all that confidence -- often too much, IMO.

      I am not sure of his cause of death. I will have to ask around and find out if anyone knows.

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  3. Oh Sanda, that's so awful. It's one of those incidents that the other classmates have long forgotten, but you still remeber it vividly. I think we all have these kinds of stories where we were so embarassed by something even if it's just trivial or insignificant in the eyes of other people and I totally understand why you dislike the peaches in syrup.
    Wishing you a happy weekend!

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    1. I believe there's only one of my classmates who still remembers the incident, and most every time I see her she mentions it. Trivial and insignificant, but when we were young we thought they were tragedies of monumental importance! Happy weekend to you as well!

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  4. Great, if hurtful story. I don't like canned peaches even without the embarrassing memory. In grade school we only gave Valentines to those we chose, the "everybody" rule wasn't in place. Can you imagine the hurt feelings? I was lucky and got my share but it was a big deal about who exactly gave you one. Cruel! I am happy that was all changed.

    Darla

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    1. Feelings do get hurt so easily at that young and tender age. I think about the way the other boys treated Louie and it would be called bullying today - a term not known then. So sad.

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  5. Thank you Sanda for sharing this true story with us.
    You really remember surprisingly well the past events!

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    1. A good memory can be a blessing at times, and a curse at others!

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  6. childhood is, i think better in nostalgic remembrance than in the actual experience. i love your illustrations :)

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    1. The embarrassing incidents were so painful at the time they happened when we were kids. I suppose they don't call it the "tender age" for nothing!

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  7. You know, I was thinking of this story just a few days ago! I remember you being teased about the "Louie Honey" thing but had forgotten about the valentines all being frm him!!! You were a picky eater and your scheme to trade for what you did like was clever. Sweet story,

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    1. What a coincidence! And our thinking along the same lines happen often these days, it seems.

      I'm glad I grew out of being a picky eater. Remember how mother have to used to make a game out of getting me to eat my food. The scene in "A Christmas Story" when the mother was doing the same with Ralphie's little brother reminded me of my childhood at mealtime!.

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  8. Sanda, cute story!! You have a vivid memory! Sometimes we try not to remember incidents like...when my 1st grade teacher asked if everyone brushed their teeth that morning; I spoke up and said I didn't have time because my brother was using it!! Where did THAT come from! I knew I hadn't brushed even though I certainly had my own brush. I just assumed she was pointing me out, and I had to come up with "a good reason"! That same sweet brother would come from his 3rd grade class to my 1st grade class to hug and pat me when I cried & whimpered from being homesick. Oh, those innocent days of our youth!

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  9. Thanks for sharing your cute story. It's odd what spills out of children's mouths sometimes. So glad that you remember it and have shared it. Being a child was sometimes painful wasn't it?

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