My feelings about Valentine's Day have changed over the years. I have grown up at last, perhaps. It has been a long time coming. My sentimental relationship with the holiday started when I chose to get married on Valentine's Day in 1971 to Alexis's dad, Jerry, when I was 20 years old. My ex-husband, Jerry, as it turned out, was not a fan of Valentine's Day, and looking back on my choice of that day to marry, it now seems sort of silly. February 14 fell on a Sunday that year, an unusual day of the week to get married. Most weddings are planned for Friday evenings or Saturdays; but, true to form, I thought it very romantic.
I remained an emotional adolescent well into my early thirties. I actually thought Charles and Diana would make a go of it. During the television engagement interview back in '81, Charles was asked if he was in love with Diana, and he said, "Well, yes of course we are in love, whatever that means." I recall Diana looking at him sideways, truly shocked and embarrassed. It was a little late to back out, but she probably should have.
There were a couple of bad omens on my wedding day. I spilled gravy on my white gown during the dinner after the ceremony, and as we left the reception we found our little red Fiat had been badly smashed up in the parking lot by someone who did not leave a note. Royal marriages and even those which take place on Valentine's are not necessarily destined for happily ever after.
I think a lot of men hate Valentine's Day. It can be a deadly day for idealistic romantics, young and old. Expectations run high and the ways your beloved can screw up are unlimited. Singles can find the day sickening or depressing. My ex-husband refused to give in to all the hype of heart shaped candy boxes and red roses (and my latest husband is not much better in that regard!). I, of course, was confused and hurt by his behavior and as they years went by I grew angrier and angrier. I know now, of course, that our marriage had more serious problems than Valentine's Day protocol. Growing up and facing that reality was painful.
A recent new book reviewed in the New York Times, The Michelangelo Effect, by Tara Parker Pope, caused me to pause a bit and think about marriage in some new ways. Pope claims that partners in positive relationships sculpt each other in ways that help each of them attain valued goals. A spouse or partner who encourages you to learn new things in life is someone you are likely to remain committed to over time. The author believes most people want to learn and grow in life, and long term relationships that allow and foster growth have a better chance of happiness and longevity. Long marriages, she writes, are not necessarily good marriages.
My present marriage has a bit of the Michelangelo effect going for it. Each of us has grown in our own way over the last decade, and we have grown together in many ways. We encourage each other's endeavors and are able to work as a team on a wide range of projects if we just give each other space and appreciate each other's strengths and weaknesses. Harry builds the shelf, I find the perfect plants to put on the shelf. I insist we go to the Georgia O'Keefe museum in Santa Fe to buy some prints for the condo and Harry frames the prints. I now feel like I am living in an art museum, a cheap museum (though we have several originals), but a museum none the less. He cooks for a dinner party, I make dessert and set the table. I'm an enthusiastic tourist, he plans the trip and drives. I blog and take pictures, he edits and grumbles about my repeated grammatical solecisms. He gets on my nerves, I get on his!
I am nearly finished reading a biography of Beatrix Potter. Potter married late in life, and she and her husband together are responsible for the pristine nature of the English Lake District. They worked separately and side by side to preserve much of the northern countryside through the National Trust. I also read somewhere this week that George Eliot supposedly said, "it's never to late to be what you might have been." Eliot, a famous Victorian woman writer, was an unattractive and very intelligent woman who, because of her lack of beauty, was told by her culture that she was destined for spinsterhood. She cared for her father until he died and then she ran off with a married man and had a 20-year loving and creative relationship which she treasured. Beatrix too cared for her parents for decades but struck out on her own, married, and crafted an amazing life.
I think a lot of men hate Valentine's Day. It can be a deadly day for idealistic romantics, young and old. Expectations run high and the ways your beloved can screw up are unlimited. Singles can find the day sickening or depressing. My ex-husband refused to give in to all the hype of heart shaped candy boxes and red roses (and my latest husband is not much better in that regard!). I, of course, was confused and hurt by his behavior and as they years went by I grew angrier and angrier. I know now, of course, that our marriage had more serious problems than Valentine's Day protocol. Growing up and facing that reality was painful.
A recent new book reviewed in the New York Times, The Michelangelo Effect, by Tara Parker Pope, caused me to pause a bit and think about marriage in some new ways. Pope claims that partners in positive relationships sculpt each other in ways that help each of them attain valued goals. A spouse or partner who encourages you to learn new things in life is someone you are likely to remain committed to over time. The author believes most people want to learn and grow in life, and long term relationships that allow and foster growth have a better chance of happiness and longevity. Long marriages, she writes, are not necessarily good marriages.
My present marriage has a bit of the Michelangelo effect going for it. Each of us has grown in our own way over the last decade, and we have grown together in many ways. We encourage each other's endeavors and are able to work as a team on a wide range of projects if we just give each other space and appreciate each other's strengths and weaknesses. Harry builds the shelf, I find the perfect plants to put on the shelf. I insist we go to the Georgia O'Keefe museum in Santa Fe to buy some prints for the condo and Harry frames the prints. I now feel like I am living in an art museum, a cheap museum (though we have several originals), but a museum none the less. He cooks for a dinner party, I make dessert and set the table. I'm an enthusiastic tourist, he plans the trip and drives. I blog and take pictures, he edits and grumbles about my repeated grammatical solecisms. He gets on my nerves, I get on his!
I am nearly finished reading a biography of Beatrix Potter. Potter married late in life, and she and her husband together are responsible for the pristine nature of the English Lake District. They worked separately and side by side to preserve much of the northern countryside through the National Trust. I also read somewhere this week that George Eliot supposedly said, "it's never to late to be what you might have been." Eliot, a famous Victorian woman writer, was an unattractive and very intelligent woman who, because of her lack of beauty, was told by her culture that she was destined for spinsterhood. She cared for her father until he died and then she ran off with a married man and had a 20-year loving and creative relationship which she treasured. Beatrix too cared for her parents for decades but struck out on her own, married, and crafted an amazing life.
My second marriage at age 54, (actually my third because #1 husband and #2 husband were the same man) has in many ways allowed me to fulfill many dreams I had all but given up on in my life. I have traveled to places I only dreamed of seeing. I fulfilled the dream to teach abroad which I abandoned in my twenties when a hurricane hit Honduras, forcing the cancellation of my Peace Corps trip which had been scheduled for a year. Another dream to speak Spanish came partly true while I was living and teaching in Mexico for two years. I now comprehend Spanish pretty well, but speaking fluently, not so much. After thirty years, I finally have a house I love that needs no major restoration and a daughter who is realizing her passion in grad school. I also developed a badly arthritic knee and neck over the last few months. Who could have dreamed?
Virginia Woolf said Eliot wrote novels for grown-up people. I have never read Eliot but I liked Woolf's remark so I ordered the PBS video series of Eliot's novels from Amazon as a Valentine present for myself. I feel I have grown up over the last 60 years and I should celebrate that! What better way to celebrate than to shop on line?
Virginia Woolf said Eliot wrote novels for grown-up people. I have never read Eliot but I liked Woolf's remark so I ordered the PBS video series of Eliot's novels from Amazon as a Valentine present for myself. I feel I have grown up over the last 60 years and I should celebrate that! What better way to celebrate than to shop on line?
I still love Valentine's Day, but I can buy my own chocolates and flowers. My friend Lee told me that my favorite, See's chocolates, can now be found at Southdale. I might even get Harry a box! Valentine's Day is about love and I have been fortunate to have loved much in my life. I am still a die-hard closet romantic, but I have learned to be a bit more grown up about love. [Editor's note:do any of you believe that Jeanne is a closet romantic?] My expectations are a bit more intelligent and realistic, so, bring on the George Eliot and pass those chocolates!
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