Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

Feb 17, 2007

Today’s Announcements

We are coming to the end of the Valentines contest.  Feb 18^th will be the last issue.  I hope you have enjoyed the submissions as much as I have.

Stay tune for details on how to vote.

Today’s Valentines Stories

~**~**~

Roses Make Me Angry

(and Cupid needs a diaper change)

Leeuna Foster

It's that time of year again. Love is in the air, romance begins to settle over everything like a thick blanket of pollen, and we're all forced to wade through knee-deep images of hearts, flowers and chocolates.

All the while, many of us are ducking and dodging the arrows from Cupid's bow. Personally, I think this kid dressed only in a diaper, flying around blindfolded and shooting arrows at folks, is just plain dangerous. Oh sure, it may seem like fun and games...until somebody gets an eye put out!

What is Valentine's Day and exactly what are we celebrating? I did some research and came up with several fascinating facts about this special holiday, most of which I quickly discarded, and then fabricated much of the stuff in this column.

Many different legends surround this special day we celebrate in honor of the patron saint of romance, a third century Roman martyr named Valentine. According to legend, Valentine was a priest in ancient Rome. He was executed by the Roman Emperor, Claudius II, for running around in a diaper while shooting sharp objects at people. No, wait a minute, Cupid does that...

Anyway, the misinformed Emperor Claudius, felt that married soldiers weren't as ill tempered and eager to do battle as the unmarried soldiers (which goes to show how little he knew about husbands) so he refused to allow the soldiers to wed. (I'm only guessing here, but I suppose they asked the Emperor if they could marry their girlfriends...not one another.)

Well, in either case, he outlawed marriage completely for all the young men who were his crop of potential soldiers.

However, Valentine, realizing the injustice of the decree, defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages in secret for young lovers.

When Valentine's actions were discovered, Claudius ordered that he be put to death. Valentine was beheaded. Which may have brought about the adage, " head over heels in love". Although the truth behind the Valentine legends is questionable, the stories certainly emphasize his appeal as a sympathetic, heroic, and, most importantly, a romantic figure.

By the Middle Ages, St. Valentine was one of the most popular saints in England and France. They chose February 14th to honor him, since this was said to have been the date on which he was beheaded.

The Valentines Day tradition was introduced into the North American culture by British settlers (probably The Beatles or The Dave Clark Five) in the early part of the 19th century.

Not everyone celebrates Valentines Day in the traditional way. Instead, some people celebrate the exact opposite of this romantic holiday. They call it Singles Awareness Day or SAD. This holiday is for the people who are single and those who are not involved in a romantic relationship.

On Singles Awareness Day single people gather to celebrate or to commiserate in their single status. They exchange Hallmark greetings of "Happy SAD!"

The greeting card industry does over a billion dollars in sales of valentines each year. This is equaled only by Christmas card sales. Over the years, in keeping with the latest technological advances, Valentines have morphed into objects that resemble small appliances. For example, there are the cards that allow you to record your own personal romantic message, scratch 'n' sniff cards, and cards that play romantic music. Someday a card will be invented to replace the person, which will in turn annihilate Singles Awareness Day.

Now, I'm not against romance. I think romance is an important part of the man-woman relationship, especially in the beginning. Throughout the years I have found that there are many different types of romance, and it doesn't necessarily involve flowers, chocolates and lacy heart shaped cards. Often it appears in the smallest of actions, and in the simple quiet moments of everyday life. I would choose comfort, security, and old fashioned loving devotion over wildly romantic encounters any day of the week. The calm, loving devotion between older married couples is the best type of romance there is...and it's there 365 days a year.

While Roses represent love, and are the only flowers whose meaning is universally understood I personally have never liked them. They are the flowers of choice for men to give to their wives or sweethearts, but too often they are used as a "forgive me for cheating, lying, and being a jerk" gift. To me, they signify guilt. (I think that must be the reason they have thorns) And besides, they're too expensive. (Florists, you can send all your hate mail to me at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.)

I realize that it's traditional to buy flowers and chocolate on this romantic of all days, but I would rather have something useful. Why squander our retirement fund on a dozen roses? Why spend the mortgage payment on eight pieces of chocolate in a heart shaped box trimmed in lace? The Roses only wilt and die in a few days and if I eat the candy, it goes straight to my hips and stays there like...forever! Give me something practical, like a new car or a vacation villa in the Cayman Islands...

...Or just pick me a bunch of Daisies and watch my back. Roses make me angry, and that Cupid kid is a safety hazard.

 Leeuna Foster

leeuna@earthlink.net

Leeuna Foster is a humor columnist for her local newspaper, The Valley Beautiful Beacon.  You can read more of her work at:

http://www.leeunafoster.com

Leeuna Foster

Self-Syndicated Humor Columnist

http://www.leeunafoster.com

~**~**~

Stolen Kisses…

Tannia Ortiz- Lopes

(February 12, 2007)

My last year on high school was full of activities and adventures.  I was part of the theater group and we were going to do a play on graduation day. The theater room was my place of refuge. I dreamed and acted all sorts of imaginative rolls and inside this fantasy world I found peace.  On a particular day, I decided to take a nap to recharge my energies. It was a hot summer day and I was exhausted!.

I went to the theater room on decided to take a nap on top of one of the cabinets. This cabinet had a long white top. It was the perfect size for my chubby and tired body.  I lied on my back and put my right arm on top of my eyes as not to be disturbed. My lips, however, were exposed to any potential thief. As I laid there peaceful resting my eyes, a kiss was stolen from me. O thief unknown to me, nevertheless, a friend. At the contact of his lips, I removed my arm from my eyes immediately and looked around. The thief had disappeared!  I laughed and went back to take my nap… I will recharge my energies first and then deal with the mysterious thief….

Ten minutes later and I ready to take care of this kiss thief and went to investigate the matter. After asking around in my circle of friend, I discreetly unmasked the thief….

“Why did you kiss me?” I asked him.  “Because I like you” he said.

“Why didn’t you ask me for the kiss? I replied. “Because I was afraid you will say No”.

“Ok” I said and left.

While walking away I thought, “Don’t you know I like you to?”  Graduation day came and we went separate ways…. But that stolen kiss forever will be in my mind….

While studying at the university another kiss was stolen from me… This one in a more creative way than the first one….. I was visiting my friend Freddy when suddenly his younger brother said to me: “I have to tell you a secret”.   So I followed him to his bedroom.  He closed the door and said to me: “Close you eyes and open your mouth.”  So there was I standing in front of him with my eyes closed and my mouth wide open… What came next took me completely by surprise and almost made me loose the balance. He moved very quickly and without any further hesitation gave me a kiss. He ran fast of his room and hide of embarrassment.  I was still in shock and wondering, what had happened here?  I went back to the living room where my friend, Freddy, was waiting for me and said. “Could you believe he just stole a kiss from me.?”  My friend laughed and said: “Yes, he likes you.”  We both giggle and left the house. 

As of today, I remember those stolen kisses and smile…. I was so na?ve! However, I learned a lesson, never closed your eyes and open my mouth without asking first “why”.  Never trust those kisses thief; they are quick and unpredictable…..

Tannia Ortiz-Lopes

tanniaortizlopes@yahoo.com

Tannia E. Ortiz-Lop?s was born in Guayama, Puerto Rico and currently lives in Germany with her husband and two sons.  On 2004, the author published her first free-style inspirational poetry book, The Window to my soul, My Walk with Jesus, with Tate Publishing and under the pen name of Mary Magdalene. On March 2006, the book was voted “Best Poetry Book” by www.christianstoryteller.com The book could be purchase directly from the publisher at www.tatepublishing.com and at all major online stores.

Author’s webpage: www.myspace.com/tanniaortizlopes. The author also has a blog at www.amazon.com

~**~**~

My Valentine

Hart Dowd

I love you, darling, every day . . . Of every month and year . . . Indeed each golden hour you . . . Become more sweet and dear . . . But when the moment is at hand . . . For valentines and such . . . My feeling of affection has . . . An extra special touch . . . Because I think of all you mean . . . And all that love implies . . . And many more romantic stars . . . Illuminate the skies . . . I see a brighter sun by day . . . A softer moon at night . . . And in your own beloved eyes . . . There is a magic light . . .  And so I say this sentiment . . . Forever old and new . . . That I adore you, darling, and . . . I love and treasure you.

LOVE’S A GIFT, PRICELESS AND RARE.

   “So,” I said, “how do you like ‘em?”

   “Like what?” replied my wife.

   “My new glasses.”

   She looked up, surprised.  She said something odd: “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

   “Maybe,” I quipped, “you need glasses.”

   “I do wear glasses,” she said.

   I looked again.  Sure enough.  The woman was looking at me through a pair of glasses.  They were there right in the middle of her face.

   “When did this happen?” I asked.

   The woman who I had fallen for did not wear glasses.  In that first indelible moment, she had brown hair, an 18-inch waist and unblemished skin.  And she had looked at me with something approaching uncritical rapture.  All these things I could recall; they were petrified forever in perpetual first-memories.

   I was aware that she now had tinsels of gray in her hair.  I was conscious of the fact that she kept her waist discreetly hidden under her untucked skirts.

   But lovers have a pact.  We agree to see each other through a benign lens of revisionist affection.  “As far as I am concerned,” she said, you do not wear glasses.  I don’t think of you with glasses.”

   I don’t see the effects of time either.  She is still the 24-year old sprite who stood on the deck of a ship called Goforth and, after a long pause, turned and asked with absolute sincerity: “What’s my name again?”

   Such are the clear impressions that last.

   “What do you make of it?”  I asked.

   “Make of what?”

   “The fact that we don’t think of each other with glasses,”  She didn’t miss a comic beat.

   “We don’t see each other anymore,” she said.  I think that’s what she said.  At least it’s what I credit her with saying.  Sometimes I put clever words in her mouth.

   It happens to people who are blinded and deafened by high emotional stakes.  We attribute things to each other.  We work like mad to defend each other’s images.  I send a gift in her name, a note, or I make excuses and no one speaks ill of her in my presence.

   You can see a certain potential for confusion and trouble here.  But there’s no way out.  People who live together – live together deeply – surrender pieces of themselves.  They blend together in ways one would not think possible.

   See, part of the whole thing is to show her, to discover it again.  When I took her to Victoria for the first time, it was as if I’d never been there before.  I tasted it all fresh again.  Movies I’ve seen 20 times, which I couldn’t bear to watch alone, I watch with her.  She thought Ben Hur was just another religious movie until she watched it and, maybe, sensed something from watching it with me.

   I know that if she likes something, I will give it an extra try because I trust her judgement.  After I finish reading a good book, I might read it again when she does.

   When we first met, she resented this.  She would hide books and accuse me of violating her intellectual privacy.  But gradually she accepted my presence in all the secret rooms of her mind.

   Some people see it as settled boredom – that thing that happens when husbands finish the sentences begun by wives.  Poor devils.

   It is the look across tables that does not have to be spelled out, the opinion that goes without saying.  It is, in short, a marriage in the most profound sense.  The kind in ``which both parties see each other through rose-coloured glasses.

Love’s a gift, priceless and rare,

So gentle, so tender, and true;

Strong as a bond holding earth to the sun

Yet light as the thistledown, too!

Holding, enfolding, in thoughtful embrace,

Yet leaving one free as the air;

Asking no thing in return for its gift . . .

When needed, it always is there.

Hartson S. Dowd

hsdowd@telus.net