Valentine's Day went off without a hitch. Millions of people scattered across the circumference of this great earth felt the sting of Cupid's arrow (or the impending wrath of someone special) and made purchases that made millions fall in love all over again.
A lot of those heartfelt, thoughtful and plush symbols of love probably came from Wal-Mart, a store with a long history of convenience, pride and exemplary customer service.
So, last Friday, I had to make a milk-and-bread voyage into the swirling enigma previously named, and I consider myself a lucky man to have been there.
Upon setting foot in the door, a sea of reds, pinks and whites slapped me hard in the mouth. Like Neil Diamond, I'm a solitary man.
So, in the chromatic presence of what that could've been described as tacky, the pang I shared with Neil became greater than any man should have to bear, and I could do little but hasten past the depressing holiday displays.
My thoughts again turned to Female-Americans when I passed a bookshelf loaded with discounted romance novels. For a brief moment, I thought of canceling the evening's plan and curling up with a bag of Quaker's Honey Buzzers and a tale of a sultry farmer's daughter and a lusty woodsman. Luckily, my conscience and good taste pushed me onward.
The milk was cold and selling for $1.98. The bread, I decided, I did not need. Having only one item, I made my way to the express aisle with nods and apologies to stand in second place behind a middle-aged woman.
I quickly took inventory of her and the items she passed across the scanner. I was sure she wasn't attractive. The cashier rang up her two cheap loaves of bread and an inexpensive bucket of ice cream. Lastly, she picked and priced a white, stuffed bear with a red ribbon encouraging the owner or temporary possessor to have a "Happy Valentine's Day!"
The gallon of milk chilled my hand. The woman wrote a check for her modest goods and wished the cashier a nice day.
At that time, I put aside my convictions and an overwhelmingly beautiful sadness crept up. I watched the woman walk away, and my trusty "Valentine's Day is an over-commercialized excuse to make up for a year's worth of relationship mistakes" creed failed to take precedence.
I looked to my left and saw a Ball State student clutching a large, stuffed animal that he, no doubt, would be giving to someone worth giving to. I saw the delivery guy from China Express in the Village pouring quarters into the toy crane machine. Twice, the claw teased a pink something for someone but could not grasp it.
I couldn't decide if these scenes were pathetic or marvelous. I'm leaning towards both.
But, I think our three heroes got it right.
Maybe Valentine's Day has turned into another excuse to buy. But, love is effort. Love is giving, and it doesn't take a diamond bracelet or a trip to Barbados to reinforce that. Whatever it is, love can come in the form of a 6-inch teddy bear, even if it is from Wal-Mart.
Valentine's Day is another exercise in the art of trying, and in these cases, I've seen remarkable work.
Write to Allyn at aswest@bsu.edu
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