My Funny Valentine

For a chick who thinks Valentine's Day is a big old commercial ripoff fandango, based on a Christian saint of uncertain provenance and hyped for the benefit of the candy and flowers industries, I have to say it has loomed large-ish in my romance calendar down the years.

In college and immediately after, there were a few sweet lads who brought the chocolate and the roses, including my first serious boyfriend (not lover), Dennis Shaw, and my first fiancé, George Romonchuk. Even dear David Walley, unsentimental Oscar the Grouch that he could often be, came through for Feb. 14.

Not in the last 36 years, of course, have I celebrated Valentine's Day with the man I love. But that last one was a keeper...

Jim. Me. L.A. Twenty-carat heart-shaped cabochon ruby ring surrounded by 25 diamonds (a couple days late, but he made a truly splendid effort). Likewise two-inch-long cameo of Eros and Psyche in red agate. Composing (together) extra lyrics to "People Are Strange" while lying in bed, because he was fed up hearing me complain that the song was too short. Him writing a poem for me. Me writing one for him. True, the surrounding circumstances may not have been of the best, but Valentine's Day 1971 was a day to cuddle up with and keep me warm forever. On this bitterly cold, windy, sleet-slashed today, even more so.

And people actually wonder why, after, I would never ever settle for less...

Love you, honey!