Thursday, February 14, 2013
Ah, Valentine's Day. Yet another "Hallmark Holiday," designed to sell product, love and sex. Come to think of it, that's what bordellos do 365 days a year. Forgotten, of course, is Valentinus, of which there were a few: a bunch of Christian saints, some martyred for various offenses of the absurd. I am grateful that on this day, I've bought no gifts, sent no cards, with the exception of my two Grandkids and the women who manage my apartment complex for who Rex brought over a box of candy and card. These women "take care" of me. If I don't show up with Rex before noon daily (he likes to visit his "girlfriends"), the call the apartment to make certain all's okay. To show one's sentiment and affections these days, or rather on this day, more than $6 billion will be spent. It is not that I'm not a Romantic; but it is that I'm an old "beat," who believes that affection's shown through words and deeds, not dollars…that would be my last ex-wife, frankly. Without showers of gifts and dinner out, the holiday meant nothing to her. We were almost on the same side of the fence there: It's never meant anything to me. I count myself as fortunate that there are no women in the life these days, romantically anyway. Were there, I would have to contend with this nonsense, and my objections would be met with anger and argument. Oh, I yearn for those "beat" days, those old days when women were easier going, if I recall, or at least those I knew and weren't bent on expensive travel, dinners and so forth. I remain that old time Village guy.