Valentine's Day history runs red and sweet

Happy Valentine’s weekend, end to the football season, the thick of the Olympics, and whatever else you might be celebrating or grieving. 

 

This Valentine’s, my boyfriend and I are going to a fancy sushi restaurant and then coming home to do our own version of paint-and-sip. Look out Bob Ross YouTube videos, here we come. 

 

Fun fact, Valentine’s Day is thought to have started in Rome, when Romans celebrated the feast of Lupercalia. They would sacrifice dogs and goats and then whip women because they believed it would make the women fertile. Then men would draw women’s names from a jar and be “coupled” up with them for the rest of the night. Very romantic, no?

 

As time went on, the holiday of “fertility and love” became sweeter and more innocent, romanticizing love in a gentler way. 

 

The history of holidays is always fun to research, especially since they are like fairy tales – originally dark and maybe a bit bloody, but evolved into something innocent and fun. Then again, history in general is just fun. 

 

Jack’s grandfather is in Denver this week, and we went to visit him. At dinner, he told us stories that he remembered from his childhood. 

 

He told us of his own grandma, whom they called “Z,” and how she traveled from a northern corner in Germany to the States. When she got here, she headed west in search of Colorado’s rumored gold rush. It was over by the time she got here, but she still settled in Central City, the mountainous town with the popular Blackhawk Casino. He told us of how, despite the fading of the gold rush, mining was still popular. One day, Z was standing out on her porch when a worker came running shouting for help. So she ushered him over and hid him under her skirt as authority figures arrived asking her if she had seen someone run by. Z pointed off to the distance and said she saw him run that way. 

 

Jack’s grandfather chuckled as he told the story, remembering the grandmother who lived with him when he was a boy. His ability to recollect a story of his history was impressive. 

Jack admitted he had never heard the story before himself, and I mentioned I wanted to ask around for more of my own origin stories to cherish in memory. 

 

I still keep a journal, updated every once in a while with what is going on in my life. So I guess I’m writing down my own story, as my grandfather did. Maybe some day far in the future, someone will find pleasure in flipping through my thoughts as they struggle to read my half print, half cursive handwriting. I sure hope someone does at least, because if not, does that mean I’m doing this for nothing? I know journaling can be therapeutic, but that’s not what I do it for. Well, someone can find the treasures I have hidden in the pages if they please, and if not, I guess I did it for me. 

 

My Determination: “Don't say we are not right for each other, for the way I see it we might not be right for anybody else.” - Doug, The Cutting Edge