Valentine’s Day 1960 style was probably not much different in my day than it is today, except for one thing maybe, the traditional box of assorted chocolates and mushy card has become less the norm, and more often than not, combined with a piece of jewelry an elaborate dinner out somewhere, or a new puppy. Yikes, it’s Christmas all over again! Well, for some anyway, but not for me because after the passing of my husband five years ago Feb. 16, Valentine’s Day is definitely just another day to me now. He always saw to it I got a box of Valentine’s Day candy-even if he had to send one of our four grown children to get it. Sadly, his last Valentine’s Day with me, when he was too ill to remember the day, let alone the specialty of it, our daughter Laura remembered in his stead by getting a big box of assorted chocolates and an even larger card where she had written Jim at the bottom. The card read:
“Be my Valentine.
Be mine because I’m already yours.
Happy Valentine’s Day, My Love.”
Her kind gesture reminded me of a story I told our children many times over about their generous dad and our first Valentine’s Day together as girlfriend and boyfriend. Oddly enough, the previous year, we had just missed celebrating Valentine’s Day by two months because our first date wasn’t until April of 1959. This year, I was expecting at least a nice card, maybe even some candy. I loved Valentine’s candy. My dad would bend the rules on that day and would bring all his girls a little heart-shaped box of sweetness. And a bigger box for Mom, it was such a thoughtful treat, and I will never forget what joy it brought to the family. You see, I grew up in a home where my parents were very strict about too many goodies in our diet. That meant sweets were extremely limited, and pop was a no-no except for certain occasions. Comically, if you can imagine it, my three sisters and I were occasionally allowed to split a few six-ounce cokes. Diana (always the thinker) would get out a wooden ruler, wash it, and divide evenly into four glasses the amount we would each get. “It’s only fair,” she would reason. Naturally we’d add lots of ice to make it look like more, but it still was never enough.
Once in a while, Diana, who was a year younger than I, would go spend the weekend with our grandmother. We loved going there, especially when we were young kids, about eight and nine. Grandma always had all kinds of candy, potato chips, and 7-UP for her digestion; she worried about her waistline, and one might have called her pleasingly plump. One afternoon, we girls spied a tempting box of caramels sitting on the kitchen counter and decided to help ourselves. We were careful not to finish the whole box, but we had a couple each before Grandma caught us in the act. “Hey, don’t eat those, that’s my diet medication,” she scolded. “We found out soon enough what that diet candy was all about. The chews, known as Aides, were an appetite suppressant. It didn’t hurt us, but we sure didn’t want much to eat the rest of the weekend. Oops, there went our potato chips and pop treat Grandma promised. I was so full I felt like I’d eaten two Thanksgiving dinners!
Valentine’s Day 1960 will go down in my book of personal history forevermore mainly because that was the year my steady beau and future husband surprised me with the largest, most beautiful box of assorted chocolate candies I had ever seen in my life! I told myself this would take me a month to eat! I was more than surprised, I was astonished! And, more in love with my cute, blond boyfriend than ever! This beautiful piece of art was bedecked with lovely pleated pink satin ribbons atop the lid and a stunning floral arrangement of matching pink roses posing from the middle. This spectacular sight would have made the perfect corsage on an evening gown. The candy extravaganza was big enough to feed an army. It took both hands to hold it. I’d never seen so much chocolate in one place! This guy must really love me, I told myself.
When I took my adorable present home, my family gasped with excitement. “Can I have some?” my three sisters pleaded in unison. And, I passed the breathtaking 8th wonder of the world around. Mom and Dad just shook their heads in disgust. “Guess you won’t need that little box of candy I got for you.” Dad teased, and he was right. I told him to divide it amongst my sisters. The next couple of days, I shared my candy at my discretion; then, I would run upstairs and hide it under my bed. I knew from experience with three little sisters who have their noses into everything one cannot be too careful. It’s what one does, and so far, it was working or so I thought until one day, I came home from school and crawled under my bed to drag out my stash for a morsel or two, and what did my wandering eyes should behold but a nearly empty box of goodies, and most of the nectar was gone! The only candy pieces left were the ones I didn’t like! Apparently, “the sisters” didn’t like them either! I was appalled, which was extremely evident for weeks. To this day, the event is still fresh in my mind, not that I hold grudges or anything.
In 1961, I married that cute boyfriend who picked out the biggest box of candy he could find for me at the most prestigious candy shop in town called Eagles; he didn’t get mad at all when “the sisters got more than their share of my treasure trove of love and affection. He just laughed and said, “There’s more where that came from.”
Eagles still exist on North High St. in Columbus, Ohio. My youngest sister, Donna, said, “They still display those mammoth boxes on the wall if anyone dares.”
Jim and I were married for 57 years. I sure do miss him!
