The history of shoes provide to you.

Plain And Sin1ple Hearts


    Valentine's Day broke the boredom of Iowa's grueling winter.
As soon as the showy cards appeared in the window of the Ben
Franklin Five-and-Dime, Shirley and I hurried in to make our
selections.

    Back home, we sorted our cards, choosing the appropriate
verse for the teacher and for each classmate. We were careful
about the messages on the cards for boys. Valentine Greetings
was safe, but Please Be Mine would give a boy the impression
we liked him.

    When I was in Fifth Grade, I came home from school one
day and Ma greeted me with the announcement, "I got a bargain
on Valentines. This big package for only a dollar."

    That she had chosen our cards was bad enough, but when
I saw them I knew Valentine's Day was ruined. The cards had
no lacy frills, no lollipops stuck in slots, no crinkly hearts that
unfolded when you opened the card, no Cupids aiming arrows.

    When delivering baskets, the idea was to place the gift at the
door, ring the doorbell and then run before the recipient could
catch you. How fast did you run? Like a turtle if you wanted to
be kissed by a certain person of the opposite sex; like a gazelle
if you wanted to avoid a kiss. What I can't recall is how we
ever found anyone horne. We were all dashing about making
deliveries; we must have run into each.

    Many of our friends were neighbors, but for those farther
away Poppy drove us on our rounds. One time my cousin Bonnie
delivered a basket to me while we were eating supper. She carne
inside, but I couldn't get up fast enough to chase her. Instead,
she slipped around the table and planted a kiss on me.

    I harbor a fear that some major company will rediscover May
Basket Day and mar its simplicity with commercial baskets,
cards, and trinkets. To ward off that calamity, please do not
share this article with anyone who might be in cahoots with
such a manufacturer. Think Hallmark.

    The second Sunday in May is Mother's Day, one day a year
allotted to honor our mothers. In my youth, Catholics devoted
the entire month to our heavenly Mother, The Blessed Virgin
Mary. At horne, we created a shrine, complete with a statue
of Mary, a vigil candle, and fresh or plastic flowers. We were
supposed to daily kneel at the shrine and say the rosary. I
probably didn't do that.

    Our church held its Crowning of the May Queen (Mary) on
Mother's Day afternoon. All school age children were required
to participate. If you failed to show up, without good reason, you
were doomed to hell, so said the nuns. This fiery punishment also
awaited children who refused to serve Mass or sing in choir.

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