My Valentine

Fifty years ago this weekend I was in the mountains near Big Bear Lake in California. I was enjoying a snow party with a bunch of college kids. We played in the snow and I tried to learn to ski. I was never able to make it all the way up the rope tow on the kiddie hill without falling down. Going down the hill was even worse. Every time I started going I would get scared, panic and fall down. I had these long skis attached to my feet and they made getting up very difficult. It was not a pretty sight. At the end of the day I was cold, sore and tired. I decided then that skiing was not my sport. I like activities where I do not get cold and do not include falling down and embarrassing myself. I am totally impressed with the skill and grace of the Olympic skiers.

The part of the weekend that included sitting by the big fireplace with my friends was wonderful. I had been dating a young Cal-tech student for a few months. He gave me a valentine that weekend that he had carefully picked to say just what he wanted to say. It said, “Happy Valentine's Day to someone I like a lot.” He wasn't quite ready to say more than that. Three months later he asked me to marry him. The next year, and every year since, he has given me mushy valentines that declare his love. That first valentine was the most memorable.

I am indeed blessed to be his valentine.