Happy Valentine's Day
First, before I recount my Valentine's adventure, let me quote this explanation of just who St. Valentine, the actual man, actually was (and why we celebrated this holiday before Hallmark and Russell Strover got hold of it):
St. Valentine was a martyr who died some time before 312 AD, and his martyrdom is commemorated on the 14th of February. Probably he was martyred on that date, but nothing else is known of him (a Valentine, priest of Rome, and a Valentine, bishop of Ternia, are both commemorated on February 14, and most scholars now generally assume them to be the same person).
In many parts of Europe, it was once said that birds began to pair off for the nesting season in mid-February. Since our forebears often spoke of a given day by naming a saint connected with it rather than by giving the month and the number of the day, we find them saying that birds choose their mates on St. Valentine's day. That is all. If a major earthquake took place on Columbus Day, it would probably be known to future generations as the Columbus Day earthquake; it would be a mistake, however, to try to connect it with Columbus.
In other words, the thinking went like this (1) St. Valentine, a priest and bishop, was martyred (killed for his faith in Jesus Christ) on or around February 14, 312; (2) about one thousand years later, people decided (thanks the Chaucer) that birds chose their mates on St. Valentine's day; (3) birds must, as humans do, choose their mates for love; (4) humans should do like the birds; (5) humans choose their mates on St. Valentine's day.
Talk about silly. What we should do is celebrate the tremendous faith in God that one man had -- such an amazing faith that he was willing to die for his Lord and Savior.
But anyway, on to my personal celebration of the mistaken notion that humans, as birds don't actually do, should choose their mates on February 14:
I wished Mom and Dad a happy anniversary (they were married on St. Valentine's Day in 1976) and sent some e-cards to some folks.
I got to see Kat on the way to lunch, in between classes, and she gave me a Willy Wonka chocolate bar (evidently, VU Dining had decided to turn the Rand Hall function room into another suicide-prevention technique for everyone without a sweetheart on V-day). It made me smile like an idiot.
Kat usually has that affect on me.
After lunch with brothers Scott Williams and Tyler Fiveash (along with an interview or two with some pledges), I went to class again. After class, I ran up to Kat's room in Cole Hall and dropped off roses for her in her favorite colors: red and wine.
Katharyn and I had Chinese food for dinner, and we watched the movie Wimbledon, a charming romance-comedy that I had been balking against everytime that Kat and I had went to Blockbuster (see previous posts regarding our movie-deciding fun times). It actually turned out to be a great movie, and she and I thoroughly enjoyed it.