Daisies and Roses

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“Let the red roses grown and fade;
I’d rather have daisies on a rainy Tuesday.”

So runs the tagline from the first song I ever wrote—that is, the first song I ever wrote that I actually still rather like. It is inspired by my mother’s words to my father in a story I’ve never grown tired of hearing.

You see, my dad is an accountant and, this time of year, he is absolutely swamped. He is also an incredibly practical person and, although he does a great job showing my mom that he loves her, romance is not his natural bent. One Valentine’s Day early in their relationship, my dad—then a cluelessly head-over-heels young man—did his best to surprise my mom with the classic red roses.

Well, this did not go according to plan, something deeply troubling to those of us (like my dad and me) who thrive on plans.

My mom, however, reassured my dad with the following words: “I don’t care about roses on Valentine’s day. I just want a mixed bouquet on a Tuesday for no reason.”

My parents’ love, it turns out, does not center on an annual ritual of overpriced roses (I hate to break it to you, men, but roses are more expensive the day before Valentine’s…) but instead is built upon small, thoughtful, sweet surprises. My dad regularly surprises my mom with flowers and, once I entered the picture, began to bring me my own small bouquets as well, teaching me what it is to care for someone on both the holidays and the everydays.

In high school, when my mom explained the reasoning behind the random bouquets and lack of roses on Valentine’s, I wrote my own take on the story in a song called “Daisies” and it became my own sort-of romance anthem. The main lyrics go something like this:

VERSE 1
Today was perfect, perfectly scripted.
Each moment flawless, just like you planned it.
You took my hand, we danced…
Like we should: romance.

REFRAIN
But I wish you knew
And I know it’s strange
To throw this yearly act away.
Let the red roses grow and fade;
I’d rather have daisies on a rainy Tuesday…

BRIDGE
Red roses are heartless on Valentine’s day.

CHORUS
I’d rather laugh at some silly movie
Than always have you singing songs to me…
I love to dance but don’t need romance.
Let the red roses grow and fade;
I’d rather have daisies on a rainy Tuesday.

I’ll even include a link to a very old, very poor teenager-with-an-iPhone recording of this song.  (It’s hugely embarrassing, so don’t tell anyone else about it. It’s our secret, you hear?)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MXtwNajUOik&feature=share

The thing is, though, while I still prefer daisies to red roses, I am not sure I agree with my own song anymore. You see, I met someone who brought me daisies on Tuesday and who is always ready to “laugh at some silly movie” with me. The thing is, though, he has also taught me to love slow-dancing; he both twirls me around and sends me flowers, but makes me laugh like nobody else. And—here comes the irony—I have turned into the one constantly writing and singing songs.

Despite the protests of my first song against constant serenading, I have become the ukulele player with four main chords and a whole lot of rhymes. Somehow, in the past year, I have become a hopeless romantic, while yet remaining the pragmatist who savors small, thoughtful gestures.

And so, after years of resenting Valentine’s as a mere “yearly act” or “sainted old cliché,” I have come to enjoy it as a little extra sweetness on top of the everyday. I suppose the key is finding someone who will love me on this day but not only this day. Besides, Valentine’s day is just as likely to be rainy as any random Tuesday, right?

The beautiful thing about this love, too, is that it is not limited to romantic love. Friends and family are just as capable of providing those sweet, everyday gestures of affection and care. (Happy Galentine’s, am I right?) You know that passage in 1 Corinthians that everyone quotes to tie their spiritual and romantic lives together? (“Love is patient, love is kind, etc.”) Well, the King James Version translates “love” as “charity.”

“Charity suffereth long, and is kind;
charity envieth not;
charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up.”

– 1 Corinthians 14:4

Charity goes far beyond and before romantic love; charity is the love of Christ manifest in the love of believers toward each other. Dearest friends, family, and lovers: let’s celebrate the everyday in charity. Valentine’s is, I am now forced to admit, worth enjoying, but how marvelous to think that our love—our charity—extends through the whole year, to each and every person in our lives. That may be daisies on Tuesday, mailing a note to your best friend, or calling up your parents to thank them for demonstrating that sustainable relationships are built on apparently-ordinary acts of charity.

Still, happy Valentine’s, my love. You know who you are.

Romeo is not Romance

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I was perusing Pinterest this afternoon and came across this nifty picture. Seeing that it included classic books, I stopped my mindless scrolling, looked through it, and nearly shouted aloud.

No.

No.

No!!! No. No. NO. N.O. No.

What was so frustrating about this pin? Well, first of all is the fact that it lists Nicholas Sparks alongside Shakespeare, which is like creating a playlist of music that includes Miley Cyrus and Beethoven; it is not okay. (Nobody wants to be interrupted by “Wrecking Ball” between movements of “Sonata Pathetique”!)

Secondly, many of these books are not love stories! Aside from Nicholas Sparks and several others which I have not read, these books, although they center on romantic relationships, were not written to be advertised as “The Greatest Love Stories of All Time”! Rather, their authors used romantic relationships, usually FAILED romantic relationships at that, to communicate other concepts. I have serious doubts as to whether the creator of this pin read anything beyond the synopsis paragraphs, and if he/she did, I am begging him/her to reread them with a little more mental effort. Please, for the sake of literature nerds everywhere and for the authors who are turning over in their graves as I write. Sure, these novels may appear to be love stories, but…

(warning, spoilers)

Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell: Failed loved triangle, lust wins over love, the only true love comes from a dying woman whose husband is nearly unfaithful to her. Also romantic gold.

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy: Anna commits adultery, abandons her husband and child, and ultimately throws herself under a train in a realization of her guilt. Practically flowers and chocolate.

Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare: Two angsty teenagers kill themselves after a forbidden

Pretty sure this is what Shakespeare was thinking... :P
Pretty sure this is what Shakespeare was thinking… 😛

marriage. I don’t even have a snarky comment. This is tragedy, pure and simple.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald: Gatsby’s love for Daisy is a representation of his desire for acceptance by the “Old Money” of society, so if wealth and envy are synonymous with love, then certainly this is a love story. Who cares if the lovers actually end up together, right?

Okay, so now that I have relieved myself through sarcasm, I will admit that this list is not completely wrong. Some of these books are quite adorable and “loverly.” Jane Eyre had a warm, fuzzy resolution, The Princess Bride is a romantic romp, and I can’t deny that Pride and Prejudice is delightful. (Who doesn’t love Mr. Darcy?) However, I wish that readers would exercise more discernment; a pair (or triangle) of lovers does not imply a romance, just as a death does not mean a tragedy. Books are much more than an “adventure” or “mystery” or, in this case, a “love story” and we have a duty as readers to study the masterpieces of these authors with a mind that can see beyond the surface and ponder the deeper implications of the seemingly straight-forward plots.

Granted, even if it isn’t a love story, I’d venture to say that it’s still a better love story than Twilight.

Apologies if you liked Twilight. I haven’t read it, but it was such a fitting end to this post! 😉