❤️ Valentine’s Day was a huge deal in elementary school in the 1950s. My mom bought me a packet of Valentine cards at the five & ten to address to all my classmates. On February first, the teacher set up a box, covered in red crepe paper and paper doily hearts, with an opening on top to insert our envelopes. As the days progressed, I always wondered how full the special box got to be inside.
On the day itself, the teacher lifted the lid and selected a lucky boy and girl to pass out the cards. Piles began to accumulate on our desks. We were instructed to wait until all the cards were distributed before opening. The suspense in the room was palpable.
I don’t think it was a democratic process where we had to give a card to everyone in the class. Some kids got bigger cards, and even bigger piles. I sensed that there was a popularity class system – for the girls, the pretty ones with the long hair and nice dresses, and for the boys, the bigger, funnier, confident ones. I was a dutiful and smart child, but this didn’t gain me any advantage. In assessing my stash, I never quite felt that I made the cut.
The day after the big event, the classroom returned to normal, with lessons resumed and the wondrous box gone. The only decorations were the green strips of sample upper and lower case script that lined the top of the blackboards, and the clovers made of green construction paper in preparation for next month’s holiday.
🎶 In my teen years, Johnny Mathis was the most popular singer of romantic tunes. I swooned at the sound of his voice, so mellow and flowing like warm honey. To me, he was one of the truly distinctive voices of the twentieth century, along with Billie Holliday, Frank Sinatra, and Nat King Cole. You may have some other favorites whose inimitable sound was a gift that very few are given.
Johnny’s music fueled many a high school romance, or at least a date with his songs on the car radio. My peers may remember bursting with love at Wonderful, Wonderful, or slow dancing to Chances Are, It’s Not For Me To Say, The Twelfth of Never, A Certain Smile, and the best ever rendition of Maria from West Side Story.
🏩 The young lovers of my parents’ generation courted in style. In August 1942, my dad, a shy fellow of 31, spent a week at a Catskills resort, the singles meeting ground for young people from the New York area. He was an apprentice machinist whose work assisted the war effort. I suspect that my grandmother encouraged him to go there to find a marriageable young lady before it was too late. Fortunately, he accepted Rose’s overture to take her photo on the hotel lawn with her new Kodak Brownie camera. My dad sent his mother a picture postcard before the week was over, with a providential line, “I met a lovely girl . . . .”
🦢 My dad lived in New Jersey and my mom on Long Island, so they arranged to meet in New York City for their first date. Dad presented her with a corsage and tickets to a performance of Swan Lake. He may have been a quiet and cautious young man, but he was drawn to Rose and blossomed into the ardent and attentive lover that he was meant to be. Although my mom, three years younger, had been dating – her wavy auburn hair, beautiful features, and friendly demeanor attracted many a suitor – my dad never mentioned that anyone else had been in his life.
This is a photo of their first date, at a pre-theater dinner at a famous Broadway restaurant, Jack Dempsey’s Broadway Bar and Cocktail Lounge:
💌 My mom saved all of the letters they exchanged during their fervent courtship. What surprised me is not only the frequency, sharing everything that they were thinking and doing during the week, but how soon they bonded and expressed their mutual declarations of love and affection. Included inside are ticket stubs for Broadway shows and the Metropolitan Opera. Mom worked as a secretary at a handbag liner company on East 32nd Street, including half a day on Saturday, so she must have met him after work. My dad spared no expense, even on his apprentice machinist’s wages, to treat my mom to the finest.
If ever I had to save something from a burning building, it would be this collection of love letters and early mementos. I recently looked through the box and found a note and card my mom sent for Valentine’s Day in their courtship year.
Within eleven months of meeting, Rose and Jules married outdoors on a brutally hot July afternoon, under the shade of a grape arbor that served as their wedding canopy in my grandparents’ backyard. My dad continued to write love notes to my mom; I found a letter in the box dated February 14, 1961, seventeen years into their marriage, in which he still sounded hopelessly in love. The underlines, exclamation points, and cross outs, characteristic of his courtship letters, proliferated, along with a sweet little drawing of a heart with an arrow shot through it.
👰🏻 By the time I was of marriageable age at the end of the 1960s, dating customs had become far more casual, and weddings non-traditional. My first date with Paul was a spontaneous event, a meeting at Dunkin’ Donuts on Beacon Hill in Boston, and then on to a touch-and-go five year relationship. Same as my parents in 1943, my wedding in summer 1972 also took place outdoors, not under a grape arbor but a weeping willow tree in our backyard. The tree fell onto the house in a hurricane just a few weeks later. My husband always claimed that the tree had fulfilled its purpose, and no longer needed to weep.
The backyard tradition carried over to my daughter, who married in 2013 under an open tent at my cousin’s house, surrounded by vases of pale pink and blue peonies and hydrangea. My son expanded on the tradition when he married in January 2019 on a rooftop under a clear, cold, and starry Jerusalem sky, with onlookers cheering from balconies in the surrounding buildings.
🍇 There’s something about Johnny Mathis, a flurry of love letters, and outdoor weddings under grape arbors, that says love to me. What says love to YOU?
mom’s deco brooch
pinning on
her diamond light
[haiku by Barrie Levine]
Romance endures. Thank you for your recollections. Nice ode to Johnny Mathis!
Josh, nice to hear from you, and thanks for reading and commenting. I’m completing a chapbook of my haiku, will let you know when it’s published.
Barrie, it all sounds so familiar! Makes me wonder how we continue to believe we’re each unique or that we’re so different from each other. I completely enjoyed reading this. Thanks. 😘 Happy Valentine’s Day!
Thanks Carol, so glad this piece resonated with you. Yes, so much (probably everything) is universal . . . .
Loved seeing the picture of your parents’ first date in NYC. Aunt Rose was gorgeous! Thank goodness for the Catskills as many a cousin found love there.
I loved your story of your parents courtship! What a legacy to have, to know how much they loved each other and how romantic they were.what a nice message for Valentines Day.
Barrie:
Delightful! I could hear Johnny singing each of the songs: Chances are, The 12th of Never & especially Maria, i just met a girl named Maria! Thanks for the memories – & for sharing. Happy V’tines Day!
Thanks Donald for following me here and for your nice comment. Hope to see you one of these days at Choc’s class.
Great stories! I enjoyed seeing the photo of Aunt Rose and Uncle Jules, and I loved the photos of the old fashioned Valentines cards.
Thanks Judy, my parents’ love story is one for the ages. Warm wishes to you and the Fam.
Beautifully done
Thank you Anne, and always nice to hear from you 🙋🏻♀️
Precious memories. ❤️
Thank you Lynda, my adventurous friend – I never miss a chance to pay tribute to my parents . . . .
So happy to read another of your thoughtful reminiscences. I’ve missed them.
Happy Valentine’s Day to you, Barrie.
❤️❤️❤️ hope to see you this spring, I’m hibernating for now!
Thanks for your beautiful tribute to Valentine’s Day. The cards and Johnny Mathis songs brought back fond memories.
So nice to hear from you Maddie, glad all is well with you. One of these days our group will gather again . . . .
How wonderful to hear again the stories of Aunt Rose and Uncle Jules.
thanks,
Janice & David
Thank you, I love to tell their stories, I can never pay enough tribute to our predecessors.
Happy Valentines Day Barrie! Lots of Love ❤️ to you and the family. You are a beautiful story teller. I can hear Johnny singing “ Chances are”…. from your Dad’s stereo in the living room at 2012… as Rosales was preparing a delicious meal…you were blessed to have loving family memories….and I am thankful for those memories as well. I miss you. ❤️❤️❤️
Thank you Judy for reading our family story and sharing your own memories, it will always be beautiful and make us smile.
My precious Barrie. Thank you for sharing your family history of romance, love and marriage.
Songs that resonate with me include Frank Sinatra’s rendition of Blue Moon,
putting
the stars to shame
Sinatra blue eyes
the moon painted Sinatra blue
Roy Orbison Mystery Girl…Dusty Springfield Son of A Preacher Man and Depeche Mode Somebody, Here is the House & for those who are happy to be alone Depeche Mode’s “But Not Tonight”
Thank you VZ for finding my blog and commenting, glad you like it. And I love those poems, oh yeah . . . .
Barrique !
This was excellent, a real joy to read. Your Mom and Dads generation really knew how to do it, really knew how to bring it. Great photo of them at the dinner table. They both, are under a spell. Your Mom is arching towards cloud nine and your Dad looks like one focused, determined, dialed in dude. Pauls statement about the weeping willow is absolutely hilarious. Only he could make a comment like that. You brought me right back with your grammar school recollections too. Today I received one item in the mail box. It was a bogus vehicle recall notice. But it was pink in color. My oh my, how we have descended.
Frank
Thank you Frank for your loyalty to my blog! I love the way you describe my parents and their experience in that restaurant. I just love sharing these memories of the greatest generation.
Thanks for sharing a wonderful Valentines Day story filled with nostalgia and warm feelings. Your stories always connect to special moments we can all enjoy.
Thanks Diane for your nice comments on my blog. It’s great to know you appreciate my stories about times gone by but which which feel so universal.
What a lovely way of celebrating Valentine’s Day, by telling your parents’ love story. You lucky lady to have been brought up with such love in your home! No wonder you turned out to be the warm friend that you are! Sweet column!
Thank you Davida for reading my blog and leaving such nice compliments. Your steadfast support of my writing endeavors means so much to me!
So happy to find a new, romantic blog from you. Now I’m humming Johnny Mathis song.