Happy Valentine's Day!

In honor of the holiday, I offer both a sentimental and a cynical commentary. (Note: I'm not usually a fan of being cynical and bitter on Valentine's Day--although I recognize that it is easy to bring all those emotions to a head on this day--but I generally like to just enjoy the holiday without investing too much in it. Plus, there's all that candy. But this article was just too funny.)

Sentimental story
I was leaving my house a few days ago when I noticed a bring pink envelope sitting in the front yard, upside down. I turned it over, and noticed that it was addressed to a girl in an apartment complex down the street. I figured the mailman must have dropped it, although it remains a bit of a mystery to me, because while it was stamped it didn't seem to be postmarked, so I don't know if the post office actually got it, or got it but the mailman was going to return it, or what. Anyways, I had a couple of extra minutes, so I decided to go deliver the envelope myself. I found the building and found the apartment. A confused-looking girl opened the door when I knocked, but as I presented her with the envelope her eyes got wide and a slightly embarrassed but happy smile broke out over her face. She thanked me and I left, but I spent the rest of the walk to class imagining who the Valentine could be from--and what chaos might have ensued had she never gotten it!

Cynical story
This column is from the Boston Globe Magazine this Sunday and I really thought it was hilarious--particularly the part about the "patron saint of the redundant":

Dear St. Valentine:

Well, I notice we're coming up on your day again. I realize this because my local pharmacy is now chockablock with boxes of candy the size and weight of an ATV just a few shelves over from the toothpaste and mouthwash. The product placement has rendered your celebration, shall we say, dentally ironic. I'm fairly sure that's not what you had in mind. Of course, there always was some confusion regarding your legacy. In the first place, according to some chronicles, there seem to have been three of you; most scholars have fastened on a certain Roman priest who came to a bad end under the emperor Claudius II as the genuine article. This fellow was nearly off the hook when he tried to convert the emperor, who thanked him by having him beaten, stoned, and beheaded. Against all odds, you did not later become the patron saint of the redundant. Instead, you have come to be known as the protector of engaged couples, married couples, and people who faint, who are not always the same people, but often can be. You are also now known as the patron saint of greeting-card manufacturers, which I suspect came rather later to your portfolio. Almost annually, there is a great deal of huffing about how the "true meaning of Christmas" has been lost amid the commercial noise. Where's that argument when it comes to your feast? You died a horrible death, and for what? Canoodling puppies on a card? Chocolate-covered cherries? Every year, we honor your memory by feeding ourselves so much sugary junk that some of us wind up fainting from the shock of it. It's a good thing that you're still on the job there.

Charles P. Pierce
(http://www.boston.com/bostonglobe/magazine/articles/2008/02/10/a_saint_to_love/)