Valentine’s Day and the Lasting Power of Puns

As my family well knows, I tend to hold on to physical mementos — small things that my mom periodically tells me to “clean out” but which otherwise provide a constant exhibit of childhood in our shelf corners. Recently, I remembered a box sitting at the far end of our living room, in which I found a failed stamp collection and the remnants of an elementary school–aged Valentine’s Day celebration. The stamps were mostly from letters from aunts and cousins, and the valentines are small, one-sided printouts. I had the bottom few printed out on reddish pink paper and put stickers on them. Cute heart stickers.

Is this the best or the worst kind of cheesiness?

Valentine’s Day was a big deal in elementary school. The general rule was that if we wanted to bring something in, whether it be cards or food, then we had to bring enough for the whole class. Better than the sports participation certificates that everyone started getting in later years, this practice of everybody getting something helped the group bond. At least a few people would usually bring in sweets, and some years our teacher would pass out candy. We’d take some time in the middle of the day, maybe after we’d finished our reading or math lesson, and everyone would walk around to pass out their cards. They weren’t very personalized; everyone would get the same rote “Happy Valentine’s Day!” written in careful handwriting, on those little heart cutouts that came attached with the lollipops. Only your friends might get a message signed “love.”

The requisite baby Cupid; why did I save this / never give it?

The holiday (if it can be called one) was one of the many fun days we had in elementary school. A lot of my past couple of semesters has been spent thinking about childhood, and finding these cards that I for some reason never gave to anyone brought back a pleasant nostalgia. Puns are likely timeless, and I remember when making friends (or at least the childhood equivalent of acquaintances) was as easy as scribbling a half-hearted note once a year. And almost everyone appreciates cute animals.

I printed these long before my dragon phase.

This was one of my favorites.

 

Valentine’s Day now, despite what the store aisles seem to be telling me, feels much less important. It no longer holds that feeling of easy anticipation, of waiting for the break from schoolwork — and for the heart-shaped chocolates that classmates would hand out. February 15^th candy sales don’t have the same magic.

Much less complicated in elementary school.

The leftover valentines are back in the souvenir box for now: underneath the stamps and tucked away on the shelf, hidden behind other tchotchkes. I tell myself that they could still be useful someday — if only for reminiscing. Probably some chuckling, too.

— Lora