By KAREN MADORIN
It’s hard to ignore Valentine promotions.
Box stores dedicate aisles to red and pink candies, stuffed animals, balloons, tableware, and whatnots that end up in the trash or on thrift store shelves. Flower shops count on lovers sending bouquets to sweethearts. Card stores tempt partners with expensive cards declaring true love.
It’s the February assault on winter-dulled senses, and everyone’s gullible. Heck, I love receiving posies from my husband. But most of all I like remembering grade school Valentine parties.
While adults are vulnerable to this over-promoted holiday, kids truly know how to celebrate. Using construction paper, crayons, and glue, they craft individual mailboxes for friends to fill with corny cards signed in childish scrawl, folded, and tucked into thin, tiny envelopes that don’t meet U.S. mail standards.
Roommother-hosted Halloween and Christmas parties in primary school were the bomb, but Valentine bashes topped every holiday.
Weeks before the event, I hoarded colored paper, bits of lace or rick-rack, and dug about in drawers seeking hidden glitter or shiny embellishments. The weekend before the big day, I turned my bedroom into a treasure box construction zone. This included sorting shoeboxes to find one that Barbie or Ken had not raced and wrecked. It required a lid I could slit with tiny scissors so friends could insert Valentine cards.
After preparing a suitable carton, the real work began. Mom helped when necessary, but she believed children should design their own projects. This led to wildly creative corners and messy edges in finished products. Until I grew up, I never understood why some friends' containers sported sharp folds and perfect lines.
Covering rectangular containers in red or pink paper was just the beginning.
After completing that task, serious fun began. I spent hours snipping scores of embellishments: hearts, lips, discombobulated Cupids, and fluffy clouds. Possibilities were limited only by my imagination. At that age, I’d never heard of white space, so I applied matching and unmatching cutouts everywhere I could glob glue.
After morphing a semi-battered shoe box into a gaudy treasure box, I let it dry. Then came the discriminating work of picking out perfect Valentines for each friend from cellophane wrapped dime store packages Mom let me splurge my allowance on. This task required discernment to avoid giving too friendly of messages to cootie-infected boys.
In those days, kids didn’t learn to write their names until kindergarten, so my handwriting resembled chicken scratches in first and second grade. It took a more than awhile and serious finger cramps to sign those annual missives to classmates.
Carrying home my ostentatious container filled with tiny white envelopes highlighted each elementary school Valentine Day. Some kids added suckers or candy hearts to their card.
I sprawled on my bed, opening each one, admiring clever drawings, figuring out funny sayings, and deciphering classmates crooked lettering. More than once, I fell asleep surrounded by sweet dream-generating loot.
My husband could save himself some money by sending me a dorky, handmade Valentine this year. Maybe I’ll look for a shoebox and shiny embellishments so it’s a real trip down memory lane.
Karen Madorin is a retired teacher, writer, photographer, outdoors lover, and sixth-generation Kansan.