Dick Magee: This and that about Valentine’s Day
I’m trying to understand it — this Valentine’s Day business — when we rush pell-mell into a world of hearts and doves, of cards, chocolates and red roses, of romance and love pledged forever — and flying with Cupid on the wing. It’s a day of blissful ballyhoo that warms the cockles of a cold winter’s heart.
Oh, c’mon. Give me a break. Get real. That’s not always the way. Forget Sinatra’s “Love and marriage goes together like a horse and carriage — ya can’t have one without the other.” Pish-posh, we’ve proved that wrong.
Even when we have it, many of Cupid’s love-tipped arrows are missing the mark. Our marriage rate is near its lowest level ever. And Statista — a leader in providing business and social data — claims that average length of first marriages is eight years — then divorce. In 2020 1,260,000 of our people called it quits. Maybe the Valentine’s Day’s hoopla isn’t deserving of all the hurrahs. That shouldn’t surprise us. The first “Valentine’s Day” was off to a shaky start right from the beginning.
Its roots of go back to 270 AD. The Roman Emperor Claudius the Cruel — who didn’t take to hearts and flowers — bans all marriage of Roman soldiers. It seems his soldiers prefer the home and hearth of Rome to the hostilities and hurt of the battlefield. Then along comes a priest named Valentine, who takes pity on the soldiers, defies Claudius, and performs marriages in secret.
Uh oh.
Of course, Claudius finds out, arrests Valentine, and on a Feb. 14 has his head! Better that Valentine had stuck with playing Bingo in the church hall. Legend has it that while in jail he writes a farewell message to the jailer’s daughter with whom he has fallen desperately in love. As if he didn’t have enough trouble. He signs the note “From Your Valentine.”
And now 2,000 years later, in a panic, I’m rushing down Main Street looking for those chocolates and red roses.
Then let’s not forget that chubby little Cupid was no bundle of joy either. His arrows carried either the joy of romantic love, or the pain of total rejection. He could be a spoilsport at the drop of an arrow. And so could the other gods. Sondheim’s “Everything’s Coming Up Roses” was not their theme song. There’s a real yin-and-yang in Roman mythology. The gods were an odd lot — always fussing about something. Mere mortals were but pawns in the politics and pleasures of those on high.
The gods gave and took away. And Cupid fits right in. His pedigree is more than suspect. He’s the son of Love and Beauty Goddess Venus, the wife of Fire and Forge God Vulcan. But it is rumored that she also had an affair with War God Mars. So, we have the Goddess of love sharing a bed with the God of War. And the issue of this clandestine affair is Cupid — a newborn with the power to bestow great pleasure or great pain depending on the whim of the moment — and the flight of his arrow.
So, it’s all a bit of a muddle — what with mythical gods running amok, a priest writing a last letter of love from jail – and me rushing down Main Street. Thank goodness Hallmark Cards stepped in and set things straight.
In truth, I really like the Day. Maybe because there’s something sweet, and dear, and old fashioned about it. Plus, February would be a terrible drag without it. And wouldn’t it be grand if we’d all receive a card — and feel remembered and special.
It’s easy to make others feel that way. Pick out a card. Sign it with love and send it on its way. You will have given someone a happy moment. And that’s hard to beat.
Cupid should take notice.
— Dick Magee is a resident of Klinger Lake and a frequent columnist for the Journal’s opinion page.
This article originally appeared on Sturgis Journal: Dick Magee: This and that about Valentine’s Day
