Valentine Lollipops: The Ghosts of Valentine’s Day Past

I’ve always had an ambivalence about this holiday. It’s widely marketed for lovers, so if you don’t have one, you’re left out. Sure, it’s always nice to get a reminder that you are loved from a family member or friend, but if you’ve been longing for that special someone, it’s a sad and lonely holiday.

I’m fine now — and single too — but I can still go back decades in my mind to those high school years when I was first scarred by Valentine’s Day.

On paper, it probably seemed liked a great idea. For years, the senior class would do a fundraiser for some cause or other by selling lollipops. The lollipops came in different colors that had different meanings: red for love, green for envy, orange for friendship, purple for admiration, and so on. The lollipops were then distributed in homeroom on Valentine’s Day.

Every year, I dreaded it. You got to see immediately the haves and have-nots. Back then, I was a have-not. I barely had friends, let alone a girlfriend or boyfriend (out of the question in those days). And so the cheerleader type girls were given bouquets of multi-colored candies and the jock type boys got the same. They laughed and oohed and ahhed at their haul.

There were a few years where I didn’t get one lollipop. In later years, after my sisters came to the same school, I could usually count on one from them and, by then, I was in a church youth group and we might send a few to each other so we wouldn’t feel like such misfits on that awful morning.

There was a hit song by Janis Ian in the ’70s that, to this day, takes me back to high school Valentine’s Day. “I learned the truth at seventeen, that love was meant for beauty queens . . .” The song was called “At Seventeen” and I can still recite the lyrics, an anthem for the have-nots in high school.

I’m happy to report that many of us escaped high school, spread our wings, and flew to greater heights. Some of those beauty queens and ball players, in a sense, never left high school. But at that time, you don’t have that perspective. The hurt is deep and the pain can linger for years. I still burn when I see ads for Valentine’s Day, with beautiful happy couples embracing. It’s not that I’m bitter for myself, but I can’t help feeling for all of those who don’t have.

Many years later, I was active in a great church full of diverse people in New York City. One year, a member, Pam Edgar, came up with a great idea. She got a bunch of Valentine cards, and volunteers wrote beautiful, affirming notes on the cards. When parishioners came in on that Sunday closest to the holiday, the cards were in every spot on every pew. Everybody got one. It was such a healing experience for me, and I’ve grown to love the holiday since then.

I should point out that I am a longtime adjunct lecturer at a state university. I am not a believer that everyone should get a trophy when it comes to academic achievement, artistic talent, or athletic ability. Those things are earned and those kids have put in the time and effort to get those awards and scholarships.

But love should not have to be earned. It should be freely given and democratic. Some will accept a gesture of kindness, some will not. As the giver, that’s not your concern. Just do your part and sow the seeds of love.

To those of you who wake up on Valentine’s Day, alone in your bed, and then go through your routine, never getting that card in the mail or maybe not even a phone call, know that you are wonderfully made and lovingly created — however you may feel in the moment — and you can treat yourself well on this day. You will get through the day, the month, the year, and new joys will come. And if you feel so moved, reach out to someone in the neighborhood. Buy them a cup of coffee, slip a card under their door. It will be appreciated and remembered beyond what you can imagine.

Today, from afar, I feel your pain. From my heart to yours, I hope my little blog helps you get through it. Happy Valentine’s Day.