Well, another Valentine’s Day has come and gone, with, as usual, little fanfare in the Sablynski household. After 30 years of marriage, my husband Ray and I don’t make a big deal over Valentine’s Day anymore. Not that we ever did. I like to get laughs by announcing, “Ray got me a dozen roses… in 1990!”
When I was a kid, I used to dread Valentine’s Day when it fell on a school day. All the kids in my class would bring in and hand out their valentines to each other. Then the popular kids would arrange into piles the valentines they had received and compare their piles with everyone else’s. Not being one of the popular kids, my pile always came up noticeably short. (This was back in the days before every child was required to produce a valentine for every student in the class so no one would feel left out. Back then, no one cared about the kids who felt left out. Maybe they thought this helped build character.)
As I grew older, the angst remained, although the reasons behind it changed. If you didn’t have a significant other, it was pretty depressing to watch all those who did make such a big deal out of the day. I never had a boyfriend during the Valentine’s Days of my high school years, so it was merely a depressing day to get through with a blank expression and forced casualness. The only thing to celebrate was the fact that all the chocolate candy went on sale for 50 percent off the next day.
But the Valentine’s Day of 1986 was different for me. I was by then in the second semester of my freshman year of college. For the first 2 1/2 years of college, I had a special seminar with the same group of students for three hours a day, twice a week. A lot of things changed for me, thanks in large part to this program. It was quite a rigorous class, and hardship helps build bonds. So I made some really good friends. There were, that first year, six of us who were especially close: four girls, myself, Kim, Rosa, and another Chrys with a different spelling; and two guys, Sean and Victor.
We were all friends, although none of us was romantically attached to any of the others – or to anyone else at the time (although some of us believed Victor had a crush on Rosa, he had never said anything). So, as usual, I anticipated, if not a depressing Valentine’s Day, then one that was of no consequence and was thus to be ignored.
So imagine my surprise when I walked into class, and there was Victor with an armful of roses – three yellow and one red. Before we could ask, Victor presented the red rose to Rosa – okay, he was ready to reveal his crush. But then he turned to us other three girls. “Valentine’s Day,” he said, “is all about love. Not just romantic love, but also, the love of good friends. These roses are for you, my friends.” And he handed a yellow rose to each of us.
That simple, sweet and kindly gesture, now nearly 40 years in the past, has stayed with me ever since. We lost touch with Victor halfway through college, but I never forgot those yellow roses.
Years later, when I was married, Valentine’s Day had long since lost its depressing connotations for me, but I remained sensitive and sympathetic to angst it could cause the single friends, both male and female, that Ray and I had.
Inspired by memories of Victor, one year, when Valentine’s Day fell on a weekend, I had the idea of hosting a dinner party for our single friends. It became a tradition for some years. And each time, I would not present yellow roses as Victor had, but I would make a little toast that echoed his words on that February 14th of 1986: “Valentine’s Day is a celebration of love, and that includes the love of good friends. So here’s to you, my friends – Love you all!”
The Valentine’s Day dinner parties faded away, but to this day, every February 14, I think back to Victor and his yellow roses of kindness, compassion and friendship. And each year, I mentally toast him: “Here’s to you, Victor, wherever you are. I don’t know how your life turned out, but I hope, my friend, that it has been filled with the love and happiness you deserve.”
