The Dumbest Holiday

The worst day of the year is rapidly approaching again.  I speak, of course, of St. Valentine’s Day.  It is, without a doubt, the dumbest holiday with the possible exception of Sweetest Day but since they pretty have the same theme I really sort of count them as the same holiday.  Of course Sweetest Day is an even more ridiculous holiday but since it hasn’t really caught on the way Valentine’s Day has I have to sort of put it aside. 

The dumbest thing is that no one can really definitively state where the whole holiday came from.  It appears as if there were two Saint Valentines, for example.  There was the Valentine of Rome who was a priest there in about 269 AD.  He had a reputation of being a doctor in addition to being a priest and would often treat people even if they were unable to pay him.   

The second guy is a Valentine of Terni.  He was a bishop in what is now known as
Terni in 197 AD.  He was supposed killed by the Emperor Aurelian.  Exactly why he has anything to do with the supposed holiday I have no idea.  There are people who credit the holiday with the guy from Rome and there are other who credit the guy from
Terni and then there are those who same both of them were the same person. 

At one point the Catholic church had eleven recognized Valentine’s days.  So, if you want to add a little variety to your celebrations maybe you should pick January 7, May 2, July 16, August 31, September 2, October 25, November 1, November 3,  November 11, November 13 or December 16.  Of course if you happen to be dating one of those women who determines the fate of your relationship for the remainder of your lives together based upon what you do for Valentine’s Day you may not want to tell her about those other dates or she may expect flowers, dinner and gifts on those dates as well. 

There was also a guy named Valentinius of Alexandria.  He was once a candidate for Bishop of Rome.  He apparently taught a lot about love and marriage and the marriage bed was a big part of his view of Christian love.  Whether or not this is where Valentine’s Day comes from is still in debate. 

There were also a number of fertility rituals that took place in the month of February that had nothing to do with saints.  There was a god named Vali who was apparently some kind of god of light. 

The first time Valentine’s Day and love came together was in the writing of Geoffrey Chaucer in Parlement of Foules.  The day shows up in that poem that Chaucer wrote to honor the first anniversary of King Richard the II.   

Of course none of this history helps explain the rampant commercialism by which the holiday is known today.  Whatever significance this holiday may have had for pagans or Christians at one point is completely lost now.  Now the holiday is about buying cards, flowers, candy and gifts.  It is a completely random day that should, in essence, have no bearing on any healthy relationship but is, in fact, the basis of much strife in many relationships. 

I can understand wanting to celebrate and anniversary.  This is a date that should be significant and special to the couple.  It represents something special for them and only them.  That is romantic.  That makes sense. 

February 14 is a date seemingly chosen at random by society as a date where everyone in a relationship is supposed to celebrate the fact that they are in a relationship.  Of course all this manages to do is alienate and make miserable everyone else who is not in a relationship.  Of course it also makes miserable most people who are in a relationship because so many people put so much emphasis on this rather random and stupid date that really has no significance to anyone who is in relationship. 

Here would be my suggestion if you are in a relationship and you want to celebrate some random day that has nothing to do with your anniversary.  Now, of course, if you happen to have met or fallen in love while it was February 14 I can understand the celebration. For the majority of you, however, the entire date is probably meaningless.  So, if you want to celebrate some stupid date that is completely random I suggest you and your significant other get together one night.  Have dinner.  Light candles.  Then write out the months of the year on a piece of paper and cut that piece up into little pieces.  Then write out the numbers from one to thirty-one.  Both the slips of paper in a box. 

Then, as you and your love-muffin stare longingly into each other’s eyes reach into the box and pull out two slips of paper.  You should now have a random date.  If you pick a date that doesn’t exist, like February 31, then just pick another day.  Keep picking until you have a date that actually exists.  Now go to a computer and make up cards and go out and buy a lot of cards and candy.  At least this way you will have picked the entirely stupid and random date yourselves without doing something just because the rest of society tells you to. 

Of course the candy makers, card writers, and fancy restaurants around the world wouldn’t like this idea.  They all are counting on you coming to them in an attempt to put on the fanciest part you can for your significant stud-lasagna.  Of course the entire day generally comes down to some kind of competition among women who all compete at work to see who gets the biggest bouquet and when it arrives.  Any man who does not send a bunch of flowers to their mushy-wuggins at work had better be prepared to pay for it for the rest of their lives. 

I have been a witness to women conversing about what their significant others were planning for Valentine’s Day.  I have heard these women say that if they got home and their husbands had not prepared dinner and bought a gift that they will make sure to make this person pay and pay for a very long time.   

At the same time the entire holiday seems to make it seem like if you remember to celebrate one meaningless day then you don’t really have to show your love and affection to your special person the rest of the year.  If you just remember that one day then everything else is fine.  Of course, if this is the case with your relationship then you have bigger problems to worry about than Valentine’s Day. 

As for me Valentine’s Day will always be best summed up by an event here in
Chicago.  You know, the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.  You know, where seven men were lined up against a wall and shot in the back. 

Bryan W. Alaspa’s novel Dust is now available in print and eBook format at his website www.bryanalaspa.com and www.amazon.com.

Living Versus Quality of Life

Not long ago I wrote a column about smokers.  Like much of my writing it was firmly tongue-in-cheek and was, in a round about way, a compliment on the resiliency of the people who still resolutely smoke despite weather and health concerns.  For the most part I was complimented for this particular article.  I concluded that when it came to smokers not a single one of them was likely to quit before they were ready and some may not be ready at all. 

Being someone who has never been drunk and never been high and never tried smoking I am often looked at strangely.  I can share some of this with one of my personal heroes, Penn Jilette.  Penn is one half of the comedy/magician team of Penn & Teller.  While Penn and I would completely and utterly disagree on matters of faith, religion and the human soul I think we could agree on much more.  Penn is a lifelong teetotaler.  That means he has never even had alcohol touch his lips.  He has never even considered doing drugs.  He too, has never been high. 

Penn has a radio show and he recently talked about a dinner he went to with a  friend of his: Lou Reed.  At the dinner were David Bowie and Iggie Pop.  Somehow the topic of Penn never having touched alcohol and never having been high came up.  Apparently this statement was too much for Mr. Bowie and Mr. Pop.  He stated on his show that he was repeatedly asked about it. 

“You mean heroin, right?”  One would ask.
“No, I mean, I have never touched alcohol or drugs of any kind,” he would reply. 

“You mean you’ve done pot, though, right?”  Another rocker would ask. 

“No, I mean, I have never touched alcohol or drugs of any kind,” he would repeat. 

I have run into similar situations just not ones with famous rock stars.  People are baffled at the fact that I have never been drunk.  Not even when you were a teenager?  Nope.  Not when you first turned twenty-one?  Nah.  You never have tried drugs?  Not even pot?  Weren’t you ever just curious?  To answer quite frankly, the answer is no. 

I did my homework.  I was curious so I read about it.  I was in high school and you can’t swing a dead cat in high school and not hit someone who has tried at least one of the major narcotics.  I had a good friend my freshman year that used to tell me about injecting things into her thighs and I now realize she was telling me about doing heroin.  She was miserable.  I had another friend who told me she was worried she was doing so much coke she was wearing holes in her nose. 

This did not sound like fun to me.  Plus, I know myself.  I know I have an addictive personality.  I have little if any will power.  I battle with food every day and often lose.  Why, I figured, would I want to compound that with smoking and drugs?  It just didn’t make any sense. 

What surprised me was a message I got from someone who thought that I was not living life because I chose not to smoke.  This person stated that she had known many people in her family who had died of cancer and she had learned, therefore, not to follow rules and not care and to live life as much as possible.  This meant she, and I quote, “I smoke. I drink. I curse.  I laugh. I dance.  The monster may come.  But I lived.”  I was puzzled by this.  

How very selfish, I thought. 

See, to me hastening your death by engaging in addictive behavior is not “living life.”  If you think you are free because you smoke or do anything addictive you are just kidding yourself.  You are not free, you are subject to the addiction. 

Plus, I have never bought the whole “well he/she died doing what he/she loved to do.”  James Dean loved to race cars really fast.  I am willing to bet, however, there is not a member of Dean’s family or one of his friends who would not have traded all of those great moments he had while racing for a chance to speak to him again right now.  River
Phoenix loved to do his drugs.  During the 911 call placed by his brother the night he overdosed on a sidewalk his brother did not tell the operator, “well, hey, if he dies at leas the was doing what he loved.”   

You can love life without taking things that harm you.  Deliberately taking things that harm you just takes you out of the lives of the people who love you faster.  That’s remarkably selfish of you.  I don’t care how great smoking may feel for you the fact is it’s addictive, it makes your hair and clothes smell bad, your teeth yellow, your breath smell bad, your fingers yellow and it makes you hack and cough.  Then, you get the joy of slowly dying of cancer or emphysema.  I don’t know anyone who finds a haggard woman or man carrying and oxygen tank sexy. 

I would think you would take control of your life and refuse to become addicted.  You would strive to have as few chains around your life as possible.  You would want to taste and smell everything.  Smoking destroys both of those senses.  I know, I asked my dad who is in his sixties and smoked since he was thirteen.  A year after he quit the first thing he said was how great things tasted again.  To me not having the weight of smoking or addiction would be the way to live life.   

Jumping off of a building may be the greatest rush in the world right up until the point the ground gets in the way.  If you play Russian Roulette with a six-barreled revolver you have a 5 – 1 shot in your favor of NOT shooting yourself.  The odds are in your favor.  Still, I don’t recommend doing it.  Those who have played it and survived may have the greatest outlook on life over anyone else.  I still am willing to bet it’s not worth the risk. 

I asked some smokers I know.  All of them agreed smoking was not a good thing and they wished they could quit.  Not a single one felt it enhanced their lives.  Every one said it sucked and was too expensive.  Think of how much time you spend looking forward to the next smoke, standing around outside smoking, trying to get cigarettes, bumming cigarettes off of people and driving to get more cigarettes.  Now think of all of the other things you could do with that time and money.  I bet a lot of things that would more seriously qualify as “living.” 

So, I say dance, curse, sing, drink in moderation and enjoy life.  I do all of those things.  Just do it without hacking and coughing and smelling like a bar.  Do it without adding stones around your neck.  Eventually the weight just drags you down.  I would rather be ninety years old with ninety years of living than thirty and wishing I had more time while taking one more drag of one last cigarette.   

Bryan W. Alaspa’s novel Dust is available in print and eBook format on his website www.bryanalaspa.com and www.amazon.com.