V.Day 2013, Part I

In my mind, this is how it started.  One night at dinner, the kids were discussing valentines and their upcoming elementary school parties.  I believe it was Brooklyn who mentioned that she didn’t want to give a valentine to a certain person in her class, and Zac, being ten, suggested that she give him one that said something rather malicious.  Immediately Amy corrected his pre-teen-ness.  I, having subjected myself to dealing with seventh graders who had been especially moronic that day, mumbled under my breath, “You could just say ‘Happy Stinkin’ Valentine’s Day!’”

Of course, Zac heard it and burst into fits of laughter.  Amy and the rest heard it, and being the good father that I am, downplayed what I had said and rendered my comment inappropriate.  And the conversation went on.  But unbeknownst to the rest, an idea had hatched in my brain.

Earlier that day I had been contemplating using Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem “Valentine for Ernest Mann” in my classes.  I’ve referenced that poem before (see the entry for 24 March 2011), but for those who are unfamiliar with it, I’ll include the full text here:

“Valentine for Ernest Mann”

You can’t order a poem like you order a taco.

Walk up to the counter, say, “I’ll take two,”

and expect it to be handed to you

on a shiny plate.

Still, I like your spirit.

Anyone who says, “Here’s my address,

write me a poem,” deserves something in reply.

So I’ll tell you a secret instead:

poems hide.  In the bottoms of our shoes,

they are sleeping.  They are the shadows

drifting across our ceilings the moment

before we wake up.  What we have to do

is live in a way that lets us find them.

Once I knew a man who gave his wife

two skunks for a valentine.

He couldn’t understand why she was crying.

“I thought they had such beautiful eyes.”

And he was serious.  He was a serious man

who lived in a serious way.  Nothing was ugly

just because the world said so.  He really

liked those skunks.  So, he re-invented them

as valentines and they became beautiful.

At least, to him.  And the poems that had been

       hiding

in the eyes of skunks for centuries

crawled out and curled up at his feet.

Maybe if we re-invent whatever our lives give us

we find poems.  Check your garage, the odd

    sock

in your drawer, the person you almost like, but

    not quite.

And let me know.

So I was thinking about skunks and their beauty.  And then I remembered one of my first experiences interacting with Amy.  It was February or March of 1996 when this incident happened, and we were both in the Missionary Training Center preparing to proselytize for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—I was going to Spain, and Amy was headed to Guatemala.  Our time was drawing short before we all left for our respective assignments.  On my own, I had come up with nicknames (in Spanish) for some of the people in my district that reflected one facet of their personality; however, I hadn’t finished with everybody.

One evening, as I was finished with my studying, I glanced around the room to work on my name collection (Side note: I never finished it.), and I saw Amy (Hermana Walker at the time).  She was wearing a black jumper with some lighter flower prints on it.  She looked up for a moment, and her bright shining eyes contrasted against her dark hair and her dress.  And a perfect image came to mind: a skunk.  (Another important side note: it was those same gorgeous eyes that first attracted me to her when we met again two years later.)

When she found out that I called her a skunk, I believe I hurt her feelings until I explained that I was thinking of Flower from Disney’s Bambi—because of her eyes.  I don’t know if she believed me at first, but it was the truth.  She definitely wasn’t a stinker.  That would have been some of the others.

So I took the skunk images, both from the poem and my nickname for Amy, and added it to the dinnertime conversation, and I conjured an excellent idea for my valentine!

To be continued…

(Tune in to Part II if you want to see this all ties together.  Mwa-ha-ha-ha!)