February 8, 2012
You don't send me flowers anymore because I send them to myself
Here's a page out of my high school yearbook. I'm in there as well as some stupid boys who lost the opportunity to send me a flower. I've met a lot of stupid boys since then, too. I've learned there is no age limit on stupid boys. I've lived with a few, but we shall save that for a future blog.
Did you ever see the scene in Charles Dickens's Christmas Carol where Scrooge is with the ghost of Christmas Past and he is looking back through time when he was a young boy in school? All the other boys are going home for Christmas but young Ebenezer is just sitting there at his desk looking wistfully out the window wishing someone would claim him. That's me except it is 1974 and I'm the girl in the green mini skirt. When I see myself sitting in home economics class (was that a waste of time that was!) waiting for a boy to send me a carnation I feel as if I want to hug that young girl I once was. In her youthful ear I'd whisper, "Sweetie, men will give you plenty of flowers in the future. Don't sweat it. Instead, think about getting out of home economics class and into something that will earn you a decent living because you can't eat flowers or pay the rent with flowers. Start writing that novel now. By the time you are middle-aged you will be a successful writer and be able to buy yourself that red Cadillac."
Here's Elizabeth Taylor as a young woman and she's just a lovely as those roses. If any woman was showered with flowers, it had to be Elizabeth. And yet, in the end, this is how she ended up anyway. Old and single.
Since I brought up high school, I have to say I'm really glad now I didn't have a full time boyfriend who sent me carnation because, well, as I've said, I've lived with a couple men (even married one) and they are quite distracting and not nearly as fun as my girlfriends. Men don't giggle as much as the girls or like to shop for shoes and go to lunch and talk about whether or not Madonna should still be doing cartwheels on stage. (you go Madge!)
Here are my bestest high school friends, taken a few decades after graduation. With these girls, I laughed and cried and laughed some more. I wouldn't give you a bushel of carnations for any one of them. (though I would like to be able to wear a green mini skirt again and not have knees that look as wrinkled as one of those Shar Pei dogs. But oh well.)
Happy Valentine's Day, girls! XO XO