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Suburban diary: Simple Valentines deliver the day’s sweet message

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February 12, 2012|By George Weinstein

In grade school, there was no girl prettier than Lynne Goodman. However, Nancy Blake was so lovely. Who should be my valentine? Who was I kidding? Neither of those two knockouts would ever clutch any valentine I sent them.

Fortunately for me, our teacher had devised something similar to the rules of youth baseball teams today, where everyone gets to play; even the youngster who falls down just getting off the bench when the coach calls, “Hey, Weinstein, get out there!’’ I meant, when the coach calls that person to get out there.

The rules went like this: There was a large heart-shaped box on the teacher’s desk. It was decorated in pink and red crepe paper.

On the top of the box there was a slot. Everyone in the class put a Valentine’s Day card in the slot.

They were not four-page cards; they were single pieces of cardboard, cute and colorful with girls and boys and puppies on the front and space on the back to write your Valentine’s Day sentiments.

You would sign the card but not address it to anyone in particular.

And on Valentine’s Day, everyone in the class got a card.

The Boston public school system also gave us small boxes of “conversation hearts,’’ little crunchable hard candies with sayings such as, “I love you,’’ “Be Mine, Valentine,’’ or “You are cute,’’ etched on one side.

So no one’s heart was broken on Valentine’s Day because he or she did not get a card and candy.

Today, after 34 years of marriage, I still send only one valentine, but I address it to someone.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Amy.