Valentine's Day - A Holiday ReBranded

February 14, 2020


For most American women, Valentine’s Day is either one of the most loved or hated days of the year. I’ve only been in a relationship maybe three Valentine’s Days in my 41 years. So, I have sincerely been indifferent about the day. As the eternally single, I have not staged boycotts by attending anti-Valentine’s Day parties with my bitter, single girlfriends draped in black. On the rare occasions when I have had my own funny Valentine, I have not gone overboard with gifts or been terribly disappointed if overindulgent bouquets of roses did not come. To be sure, indifferent summed up Valentine’s Day for me – that is until Feb. 14, 2009. I will spare you the melodrama and just say on that particular Valentine’s Day my Daddy’s short and brave battle with cancer ended. 


I am no longer indifferent about Valentine’s Day. In a rather existential Heidegger-esque way, Valentine’s Day now makes me totally and completely “being towards LOVE.” I don’t care if it is a free-market, capitalist advertising ploy by the greeting card and chocolate industry. I am after all a free-market capitalist choc-aholic who runs a marketing shop. But really regardless of the gimmicks behind it, I now get it. Since my Daddy’s passing, Valentine’s Day has undergone major re-branding. It is now a day on which I deliberately celebrate love.


In my family and among my close friends, “I love you,” has been reduced to a parting conclusion to any conversation. So on Valentine’s Day, I am intentional about my use of the word love. I quite literally count my blessings for the people and things that I love.


Here are some of the blessings and such that I will always LOVE about my Daddy – I love that he cooked almost everything in a cast iron skillet. I love that he gave me the nick name “Ree.” I love that even after the divorce, to Daddy my Mama was the standard for what a lady should be and he never allowed anyone to disrespect her. I love that he and my Uncle James, his twin brother, never stopped behaving like twins. At 60 years old, they still dressed exactly alike. I love that when he farted, he said, “There’s more room out there than there is in me.” I love that when I came home from second grade saying that humans were descendants from apes, he quickly corrected me and in his colorful way explained the beauty of creation. I love that by the time I was 10, he had me hooked on classic cinema. I love that when he took the greyhound to visit Dee-Dee and the rugrats, I got to pick him up so that he could see my condo. I love that he walked with swagger and always thought he was God’s gift. I love that he wasn’t lazy and didn’t mind a hard day’s work to put food on the table and a roof over our heads. I love that he never bought a fake Christmas tree and was partial to Frasier firs. I love that even though he didn’t really care for Republicans, he proudly displayed my pictures with President George W. Bush.


I love that he was a man’s man who was never, ever short on “I love you’s.”

Please reload

Featured Posts

BondGirl Books Launches National Writing Contest

July 18, 2018

Please reload

Recent Posts
Please reload

Please reload

Search By Tags

I'm busy working on my blog posts. Watch this space!

Please reload

Follow Us
  • Facebook Basic Square
  • Twitter Basic Square
  • Google+ Basic Square

© 2020 by BPA

  • Instagram
  • White Vimeo Icon
  • White Facebook Icon
  • White Twitter Icon