Heart Attack

It’s that time of year again. As Valentine’s Day draws near, businesses of every kind try to capitalize on our affection obligations. Hearts abound—on cards, in jewelry, as the shape of cookies and pizzas. At the sight of hearts, hopeful recipients quiver with expectation; gift-givers quiver over the appropriateness of their chosen gifts.

At the sight of hearts, I fondly remember a certain pooch. Valentine’s Day can be far in the distance and I still see hearts everywhere I look—like the absent tree branch (above) I noticed during a January walk.

My beloved canine had a heart-shaped brindle patch on her left side. Children in the ’hood found it magical and often asked how and why we tattooed her. [I thought then that this was just one of those funky thought processes of young kids. I’ve since discovered that some people really do TATTOO their dogs. Ugh.]

Anyway, you’ve one more day to arrange that perfect Valentine. Here’s some humor from the Appalachians to get your creative juices flowing:

Lines for Valentines
by Anne Shelby, from Appalachian Studies

If you won’t be my valentine
The moon can’t glow. The stars can’t shine.
The corn won’t grow and the forks won’t tine
If you won’t be my valentine.

If you won’t be my valentine
I’ll hold my breath. I’ll pout. I’ll pine.
I’ll stomp and spit and swear and whine
If you won’t be my valentine.

If you won’t be my valentine
I’ll drink a pint of turpentine.
I’ll hang myself on a kudzu vine.
I’ll exhaust myself in nervous rhyme.
I’m liable to commit a crime
If you won’t be my valentine.

If you will be my valentine
On chocolate cherries we shall dine
And drink our fill of warm red wine
And not get up till half past nine

And step out light and dress up fine
And seek what’s silly and sublime
And we’ll be happy all the time.
If you will be my valentine.