So the yearly spike in page views, from folks who sadly only Google love poems for Valentine’s Day, has come to an end. You want to say that Valentine’s Day is over? I’ve got news for you, love poems, love songs, turkey, and candy canes are just as delicious on President’s Day, or even Thursday. Love is not relegated to a holiday, my friend, and if I want to listen to Christmas music on a Wednesday in August I will. So there!
I’m all for holidays and celebration, but what’s with all the strict rules about how and which days? When are we going to quit letting the advertising industry tell us when to send flowers, when to read love poems to each other, when it’s okay to eat fruitcake? Okay, okay, so maybe there is no time that’s good to eat fruit cake, but then again, I suspect that’s another bill of goods we’ve been sold. Surely there are people out there who make a smashing, moist and tasty loaf of the stuff.
It’s sad that we are nowhere near as free-spirited and unencumbered by societal expectations as we pretend to be. Sure, traditions are nice. They give some stability to our lives, but not when we are weighed down so much by them that we cannot move freely on our own. I had to work last night, serving amazing food and desserts, opening bottles of wine for lovers of all ages and kinds. So we decided that since I have the weekend off we’d celebrate our love feast today.
Ingredients are ready to make the sauce; strawberries are waiting to dip. Valentine cards have not even been given yet. Later, after dinner, that’s our tradition. It’s Valentine’s’ Day here at our house and I don’t give a flying fruitcake what the calendar says.
So my brother Jeff, in another forum, played a request for Brian and I. It’s a song originally recorded by the Beetles, and I love their little happy ditty, with just a touch of nostalgic melancholy. It’s a classic. But it’s Bette Midler’s version with its slow and sexy tones that I want to dance with my husband to at my wedding. So like Jeff did, I give you both versions. Happy Valentine’s Day. Go read a love poem to someone, even if it’s the cat.
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