Young Love and Broken Hearts
Published in The Binghamton Press February 1, 2015
By
Merlin Lessler
Elementary schools celebrate holidays! Major, minor and a few
fabricated ones. Longfellow Elementary School, on Binghamton’s south side (or,
as we called it, PS-13), was no exception. We dragged home odd shaped turkeys
& pilgrims at Thanksgiving, jack-o-lanterns at Halloween, images of
"George" with axe in hand on February 22nd, and a multitude of
tributes to the day at hand, crudely put together with layers of colored construction
paper and excessive blobs of white paste. Halloween was the most celebrated
holiday at our school. The teachers encouraged us to wear costumes to school.
They organized a parade of goblins and gremlins, letting girls and boys march
together for a change. Playground games, apple dunking and a feast of cider
& donuts were the order of the day. The climax was a "best
costume" contest judged by a panel of our peers. Most outfits were home
made. It's amazing what a kid could do with cardboard, crepe paper, Popsicle
sticks, crayons, glue and a few of mom's kitchen utensils. Today, in most
public schools, the administration doesn't allow the celebration of Halloween.
It's true; on October 31st you can spot kids scurrying to school in what
appears to be Halloween costumes. And yes, there is a parade, games, snacks and
even a costume contest. But these events mark the celebration of such things as
the "Fall Harvest of Good Books" or some other politically correct
festivity, not Halloween. Halloween you see, has religious roots, and thus is
not condoned in many public schools.
My friends Woody (Walls), Buzzy
(Spencer) and I ranked Halloween very high on our list of favorite holidays.
Second, only to Christmas. Third, and
moving up the scale at the same pace that hormones were starting to race
through our bodies, came Valentine's Day. My memory of Valentine's Day starts
with the box, decorated in pink and white crepe paper with red hearts on the
side and a mail slot in the top. Classmate, Phyllis Otis, made ours. The box
loomed on a perch at the front of the room in full view of the class, haunting
us for days. "Will she put one in for me?" "Dare I get one for
her?" Those were the questions that ran through our heads as Woody, Buzzy
and I sat there in an armed camp on the boy’s side of the room. We knew we'd
put in silly ones for each other and some of the girls, but what about the girl
whose affections just might be worth enduring the teasing of our peers, the
girls we on rare occasions walked home from school, to the taunt of
"Merlin has a girl friend,” or “Woody’s in love!” Should we buy and sign a
mushy Valentine? The box dared us to act!
Day after day, the love box grew
heavier. Each morning we were allowed to make a deposit. I, like the rest of
the "chickens," would drop in a handful of joke cards every day or
so. A special card for a heartthrob like Nancy Wolcott or Diane Stack never
made it until the very last day, if it made it at all. A few times in my years
at PS-13, I mustered enough courage to buy a card, sign it, and bring it to
class, only to answer the dismissal bell with it safely hidden in my pocket.
Finally, after a week of anxiety,
Valentine's Day came to PS-13, a very long day. The box seemed to glow and
vibrate, as though alive, holding its' secrets in silence. The teacher called a
halt to formal classroom activity late in the afternoon. Homemade cookies and
glasses of juice were passed around. The box was moved to her desk, the lid
opened and the distribution ritual begun. One by one, valentines were pulled
from the box, securely sealed in red and pink envelopes. She called out the
name on the envelope, and when summoned, we made our way to the front of the
room, grabbed the treasure with a sweaty hand and sheepishly returned to our seats,
depositing the card on the top of our desk, unopened. After fetching our
"first" card of the day, we breathed a sigh of relief, knowing we
would not suffer the humiliation of "getting stiffed" by the entire
class. The respite was brief, and the tension returned as we remembered the
sentimental mushy card we had signed, sealed and deposited in the box.
Valentine's Day was a day
of atonement. If you'd been a jerk, teased the girls and overdid the
"double-dares" to the boys, then it was likely you would sit through
the entire valentine distribution ritual without hearing your name. You became
a victim of the Saint Valentine’s Day massacre. Then you would understand that
you reap what you sow. It’s different today; kids are required to bring a
valentine for every kid in class. They miss out on a valuable life lesson. Did
you get any valentines this year?
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