Although there are a few different versions of the origins of Saint Valentine’s Day, they all center on the expression of affection or love for another. What a cool concept! As a fourth-grade student at Potter-Gray Elementary School here in Bowling Green, Valentine’s Day was a big deal. At that point in my life, Valentine’s Day might have been as big a deal as Christmas. Christmas was all about being on the “good list,” which was terribly hard for me at that age. I wasn’t a “bad” kid. Precocious is the word I prefer to use. Mrs. Elizabeth Buckberry, Mrs. Mattie Talbott and Mrs. Alene Burks, my adorable and lovely first- and second-grade teachers and our school librarian, described me using that word while speaking with my mother during a parent-teacher conference held in Mr. Brown’s office (the first Mr. Brown that was principal at Potter-Gray – back in the dark ages when I was there as a student). They were trying to figure out how to help me behave appropriately in school. I wasn’t old enough or mature enough to know why girls made me giggle, and maybe tingle. I just knew they did make me giggle and tingle. Valentine’s Day meant we all got to make a special, festively decorated box for the top of our desk, which, on that special day, would be the depository for Valentine’s Day cards given by classmates. I remember my Valentine’s Day box well. My mother and sister helped me decorate it. Decorating Valentine’s Day boxes was never my strong suit. But I knew I wanted it to be nice. It was as if it needed to be attractive enough so that others would want to put their Valentine’s Day wishes in my specially decorated box. To this day, it still exists in all its foil covered, lacey doily and red construction paper heart-attached glory – in my memory. It was impressive thanks to my mom and sister. On that special day, February 14, 1968, during the afternoon where we placed cards in everyone’s boxes, my beautifully decorated box was filled with Valentine’s cards from my classmates. Most had just the name of the classmate printed on the card in #2 pencil. A few had a personal note written on them – like my friend Beth Britt who had just moved here from St. Louis and her father was my pastor – who thanked me for being nice to her. Moving to a new place can be hard, especially at first. Beth settled in very well as time went on. Another special Valentine was from my friend Becky Massey, who shared that we could be friends, but she needed “to be the special Valentine of David (Harrison).” Obviously, she was a good judge of character and striking good looks, and David possessed both. I didn’t mind. David was my friend, and I only wanted the best for him and Becky. My friend Chuck Strader wrote that we wouldn’t be Valentines, but we can still be best friends and that we have fun playing basketball in his backyard. We did have a lot of fun together. At the end of the day, it was all about being included, cared for by your peers. At that point in my life, those Valentine’s Day cards meant the world to me. They still do. At the end of the Valentine’s Day party, our teachers were quick to instruct us to write out a special Valentine’s Day card to our mothers. We all dutifully complied.
During the past three years since my mother’s passing, my sister and I have gone through our lovely mother’s personal belongings and all the boxes full of “stuff” she seemed to treasure during her life. I must admit that at times I cursed all the boxes of old Tupperware and skillets I don’t even remember, and the Christmas bows she re-used dozens of times. You may have had a similar experience after the death of a loved one. “Why did they keep all this stuff?” we ask ourselves. Thank goodness my sister had the presence of mind to parse through every file folder. Hidden deep within one unassuming file folder were all those elementary school Valentine’s Day messages I had brought home to my wonderful mother. She kept them. All those years. Wow. What a special blessing for me to continue to be reminded of how much she loved me. How exquisite for her to keep giving me the gift of her love in a tangible way. Oh, I know I carry her in my heart everywhere I wander. But these precious little Valentines from my youth are now held in my hands, knowing that she held them in her hands, and her heart, forever. Life doesn’t get much better than this. In the words of Abraham Lincoln, “All that I am or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.” I am ever grateful for Mrs. Buckberry, Mrs. Talbott, Mrs. Burks, and all the teachers and mentors that encouraged us to share our love with our mothers through the simple act of a Valentine’s Day card. I hope I learned my lesson from them. We should always take the opportunities presented to share our feelings with those we love. As we have often been told, life is short. I wish all who read this a Happy Valentine’s Day. Please consider this column as my Valentine’s Day card to you.
-by Ben Smith
Registered Principal, RJFS
313 East 10th Ave. • Bowling Green, KY 42101 • Phone: 270-846-2656
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