Where is my Valentine?

I had the nicest valentine I've had in years this morning when Dr. Goofoff's office called and said they were writing off the balance ($618) of my root canal after receiving my letter. I almost felt bad about revealing all that about her, but then I remembered the hours I spent in that chair and I was still glad I sent it.

It was a blessedly quiet day at work and I was able to get a lot of work done on the new Triduum Sacrum books, last published in 1980 by Fr. Stowe. The new rector has updated and corrected several things, with RSV readings replacing the King James except for Good Friday. The old books had a lot of typos and had gotten very shabby so it's high time they were redone.

I always recall on this day all the wretched Valentine's Days I've had and wonder if there will ever be another good one in this lifetime. I couldn't help remembering the Valentine's Day dinner I had with Fr. Hitchcock after Stations and Benediction on the first Friday of Lent 1997. I was thurifer and while we were at the last station I heard the sacristy door rattling. I figured it was someone having trouble with their key, but then when I went back in the sacristy to get the thurible for Benediction, I saw someone rushing out the other door. I still didn't realize anything was wrong until after Benediction. I went to get my bag and realized my wallet was gone. Luckily he had left my keys but I had $200 plus several credit cards in there plus my bank card, which meant I had no money and couldn't get anymore until I got a new bank card. Fr. Hitchcock got his nice silver pyx stolen also. We discovered that the sacristy door had been jimmied open with a credit card apparently and the West End door had a cigarette butt keeping it open. We had to call the cops and make out a report, then Fr. Hitchcock insisted on taking me to dinner and also giving me $200 so I could go on living until I got a new card. We were an odd couple at The Boulevard with all the romantic couples around us. That was also the night JV and I called it a day after he failed to show up due to a drunken Records Dept. party. So I was grateful to Fr. H for taking me out, although it wasn't quite the valentine I was hoping for.

That was not even the worst Valentine's Day I've ever had. My father was buried on 2-14-76 and I guess I've always been a little sad on this day even when I have had a real valentine. I remember we all went out after the funeral and flew a kite with the young nieces and nephews and then it suddenly just took off in the strong Texas wind and we chased it for a long time before we gave up and came back to a delicious Mexican dinner cooked for us by my father's attendant Jose. I couldn't help remembering the box of chocolates he had given me one year when I didn't get a valentine from anyone. I think I made a remark about it not being exactly the valentine I was hoping for and then left it unopened. I did not like my father very much back then and I guess it has taken all this time to appreciate his good points, of which there were a few. I find myself acting more like him every day, which is scary!

Tonight I spent with the Catalines at the Park Place Diner in Brooklyn Heights, a very salt of the earth kind of place, although tonight the gyro, usually wonderful, was cold and tasteless. We had a good time anyway, with a newly married couple in attendance and I heard all about W's departure from SMV, which was worth the trip.

I had to break the news which I had just gotten before leaving work about our dear Jacques, for whom it must have been truly a Valentine's Day from hell. How his doctor could have missed his very serious condition is beyond me, but it was our dear Dr. O, himself miraculously still alive, who diagnosed him at the annual meeting and sent him to one of his colleagues at Mt. Sinai. He had exploratory surgery today and the outlook is very dire. He's in good hands but the next few days are critical. Let us pray.