a hand in The Hague

Monday is Valentine’s Day anno 2011. In a recent rummage of what I am now referring to as my ‘memory’ box (blogged about earlier), I came across – amazingly enough – a Valentine card I received anno 1975.  At the risk of revealing my age (which no women in her right mind does at mine), I was on the verge of turning 11 then – and I believe the author of this missive was ‘around’ the same age.

I can only imagine what my reaction was then. If the truth be told I did not even realise I had kept it, however I can tell you that even today, it made me giggle, blush and smile. Giggle in that girlish innocence of knowing that someone ‘liked’ you. Smile in that warm feeling deep within of being liked. This reaction, and reflection on the words expressed took me back to my primary school days and how we, then, acknowledged Valentine’s Day – the day of lovers and love, of affection and warm, cuddly feelings.

More often than not, in the days leading up to THE day, elaborately decorated ‘anonymous’ cards were placed in a box, only to be distributed on THE day. Needless to say, there were many emotions when that happened – and an awful lot of giggling! There were those elated by receiving many cards, those disappointed by not receiving one from the ONE they expected, those in tears from those who received none. The day was alive with emotion whichever way you looked at it.

I do not know if it was innocence that made me oblivious of the commercialization of this day. Possibly, the levels of commercialism were less then. All of a sudden I have a yearning for the card I found from way back then – the heart wrenching, innocent and searingly vulnerable emotions of then. I have this melancholy feeling that the words this particular poet and ‘lover’, who signed off as ‘S’, found then would be hard to come by today.

This was no Hallmark card – this was real!

So, I share his words with you in the hopes that each can find, in their memory box or elsewhere, that moment which is Valentine’s Day.

Signed, with hugs, kisses, little hearts and pretty flowers,

Your Valentine .

Next week will see the launch of two books, written by two expatriate women of our local international community, in which they share with the reader painful memories of their past, their youth. “Black and (a)broad” by Carolyn Vines and “The Singing Warrior” by Niamh Ni Bhroin.  I have not had the opportunity to read the books, but have skimmed one and know a lot about the other .It is clear that while the process of writing may have been painful, the result is proving to be cathartic. Proof perhaps to the belief that once shared , the burdens of the past are no longer heavy chains holding us back, but once unburdened ,we are lightened of the load as we move forward.  I honour these women who had the courage to write, share their most painful memories, and  I celebrate with them the future which lies ahead.

For myself, a recent journey down memory lane was of a completely different nature – but with similar results. My load has not been lightened per se, but I have taken the lightness of the past to carry me forward. A chance memory, while watching a programme with my children reminded me that I knew one of the actors in the show. Belief had to be sustained by proof and so I  delved into my  memory case . And, lo and behold, there was the proof required for my children  .  I was cool .  I knew (sorry, had once known) an actor they enjoy watching every night .   Granted he was a B actor then, with all due respect, and is now a B+ one … why had I not met the other, cooler character/actor was the question posed by my son. Of course, alongside the cool comment, came, ‘ why don’t  you  have such a cool job now’ . A deep sigh !  ….

Jon Cryer ... of 'Two and 1/2 Men' fame today ... (yes, my accessories have not escaped me!)

In retrospect,  it is  ’ cool ’. At the time however, it was part of ‘the job’ to pick up James Earl Jones at the airport (voice of Darth Vader among many other roles); to be time keeper at a round table press conference for Alec Baldwin and Kim Bassinger or accompany Terry Jones to radio and television interviews.  Looking back on them now, I felt pretty cool and have opted  to use the memory to make me feel lighter, more confident,  ’ cooler ’ as I move forward. I have also taken some girlish pride in the fact that I was one of three women featured (of eleven people) under the headline of my University paper (year not to be revealed) which read: “Who’s Hot: Campus celebs who will be in the media spotlight next year!” … this too came to light from my ‘memory case’.

.. it's me who 'see's no evil' - very appropriate actually! - as a copywriter I only find the 'good' !

Memories, whatever they may be are part of us – how we choose to embrace, acknowledge, forget or ignore them is up to us. They are though, part of who we were then and not necessarily who we are today. We can pick and choose what we wish to retain, and make us strong ; what we wish to hang on to which keeps us burdened ;  what we wish to do with the lessons they have taught us.

I am no longer a self conscious, unsure teenager living far from home. I am an adult, a mother, mature – though still living far from home. When I was a teenager writing aerogrammes home (from boarding school in England  to my parents in Iran), I did not, sorry let me emphasise this, DID NOT appreciate the red ink corrected aerogrammes that came back.. You see, my mother was, is, an English language teacher, and a perfectionist to boot and she simply could not resist the chance to correct, to teach … Today, as an adult, and a mother myself, I get it …. This was a case of parenting, teaching and loving from long distance – long before email, Facebook and Skype. It was her way of sharing what she knew and had to share to ensure that her child was set on the right path: the basic instinct of parenting, right?!

My father, like many fathers, often caught in that uncertain battle ground of mothers and daughters, is still uber sensitive to this issue. He has cautioned my mother about correcting mistakes in my blogs for fear of ‘upsetting me’ , just leave it alone he says, and if opportunity presents itself tells me himself, oh so cautiously, about mistakes he has noticed. Yes, this probably says a lot about me and my reaction to criticism, but I would like to leave that issue aside for the moment ….

The circle is complete, maturity has prevailed. I, and my mother have moved on – in our communication and mutual respect – today she volunteered to be my virtual editor, and I accepted. Thank you Mummy for caring. Thank you Daddy for protecting. I can now say – ‘all grammatical mistakes are not the responsibility of the author’ …but of her mother ….

Told you  the  circle was complete ……