St. Valentine’s Day is calling and boy howdy, are we ready to answer.
We didn’t think we could top last year’s celebration of Valentine’s Day when Charles, Morris, and Ambrosia did their pageant reenacting St. Valentine healing the judge’s blind daughter. After that, the rest of the children ran around the living room, aka the judge’s house, smashing the idols they had made that afternoon. In retrospect, we probably shouldn’t have let them include their dolls and stuffed animals. Or the Hummel figurines Dorrie’s grandmother left her.
The year before that was pretty good, too. Morris played St. Valentine again, and the other boys played soldiers he secretly married to their wives — you know, because the Roman army believed that marriage was distracting. Nicole almost ruined the whole thing by saying that sisters and brothers marrying each other was disgusting and then something about the Viet Cong…and someone named Andrew. VC Andrew? Didn’t make sense. When she saw Dorrie about to order her to the girls’ room, she said. “I am St. Hildegard of Bingen; I shall withdraw into my chamber and receive visions that will castigate the patriarchy.” I’ve never been so proud.
But this year, I’ve gone all out. I found someone on Etsy who will make a replica of St. Valentine’s skull and the reliquary, complete with the crown of flowers, although it’s painted wood and not real gold, of course. But that’s not all! I found a poster of St. Valentine recreated by scientists from his skull! We’re going to hang it right by the icon. I had to dip into the kid’s college fund, such as it is, to pay for the skull, but we’re pretty sure that at least four of the kids aren’t college material anyway. Right now, my money’s on Nicole to become a teacher or nurse or something. Fingers crossed, of course, that one of the girls becomes a nun.
Anyway, we’re going to pretend that the St. Valentine skull is genuine, and we’re going to teach the kids all the ways you can venerate a relic. And Dorrie and I, we’re telling the kids we’re practicing because we are starting a Trip to Rome fund! We figure each year, if we give up a little extra for Lent, do a little extra fasting, we can put the money we save into the Rome Fund. If one of the kids puts on a growth spurt, I’ll ask them, “Do you want jeans that aren’t above your ankles or do you want to go to Rome? Oh, fine, you want the jeans, but do you want to keep your whole family from going to Rome and venerating the skull of St. Valentine?”
Dorrie has learned all sorts of ways to make intimate products from rags and baking soda. And I’m a big man who eats a lot; I’ve gone a whole week without eating before — it was that time when Dorrie and I were dating, and, you know. A whole week of abstaining tuna noodle casserole, meatloaf, and spaghetti has got to save at least $25. We could probably farm out some of the younger ones to do light chores for elderly people. I’m sure if they know the kids are raising money to fly to Rome so they can venerate the skull of St. Valentine, the old folk will be may pay them a little extra.
Giving up little store-bought deodorant or time with your kids may seem like to big a sacrifice for some, but we think it’s okay — for Lent or St. Valentine’s Day — as long as it comes from the heart.
