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SUNDAY FOCUS: VALENTINE'S DAY Valentine's Day memories: The best and worst Readers recall memorable moments, from treasures left by loved ones to best-laid plans gone awry Comment MailTribune.com Writer Posted Feb. 14, 2016 at 6:20 PM Updated Feb 14, 2016 at 6:24 PM Posted Feb. 14, 2016 at 6:20 PM Updated Feb 14, 2016 at 6:24 PM » Social News Editor's note: We asked readers to share the stories of their most memorable Valentine's Days, the good and the bad alike. And they had many to share: A posthumous Valentine memento Throughout our 27-year marriage, Terry unfailingly presented me with delightful surprises every Valentine’s Day. In novelty gift catalogs, he’d find trinkets or cute stuffed animals. Toward the end of each January, he’d send for one of these items, and watch for the shippers’ trucks to deliver it. Then he’d temporarily hide it in his car trunk, along with his lovingly worded card. Jan. 26, 2009, found Terry hospitalized with severe pneumonia along with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. He had quit his 55-year smoking habit and faithfully gone for flu shots and pneumonia vaccine, but this strain defied all defenses. His illness worsened over the next two weeks. My visits and attempts to cheer him continued daily. “Look, you’ve got to get better, and come back home,” I said in jest one day. “You’re just picking a lousy way to weasel out of buying me another Valentine’s Day gift this year.” The nurses chuckled. Terry grinned, then murmured what would be his three final words: “I love you.” At 8 a.m., Feb. 10, I headed back to the hospital intensive care unit and found him unresponsive, under heavy sedation, wearing an oxygen mask. For seven more hours, machines, monitors and screens produced chugging sounds, pumped air into his lungs and reported his declining vital signs. At 3 p.m., the blood pressure numbers blinked a score of zero over zero. Terry had flatlined. His attending physician then pressed the off-switch to silence the device that had been breathing for my husband. The remaining several minutes involved a flurry of questions, decisions and legally required forms for me to sign. I drove home and picked up a ringing telephone. “Mrs. Blake, this is Lions Club Sight and Hearing Center in Portland. Because Oregon DMV informed us that your husband was an organ donor, we’re using his eyes for research purposes. We need information from you about his medical history.” I must’ve answered her questions, because I heard lavish gratitude and “we’ll send you our acknowledgment letter and souvenir” just before she hung up. Feb. 14’s mail that year brought me a package containing a lovely white ceramic heart pendant. The accompanying note from Portland Lions Sight and Hearing Center expressed deepest appreciation for Terry’s organ donation. Like a medal awarded posthumously, this cherished token recalled in absentia one precisely timed Valentine’s Day memento. — Florence Calderone Blake, Sams Valley That should have been a warning ... My best and worst Valentine's Day was actually one and the same. It was the first Valentine's Day after my husband, Tom, and I married. I'm sure my husband wanted to make this first Valentine's Day as a married couple as special as possible. However, he does tend towards being hyperactive and loves to pack in the activities. On the night before this special day, Tom informed me that he was going to kidnap me and I would need an overnight bag. That should have been a warning. The next day dawned bright and beautiful but Tom said to dress warm. As we headed up to the Sierras from our then home in Sacramento, I thought, "What a perfect day to go skiing!" But I was only partially correct. My husband had signed us up for a two-hour cross-country skiing lesson. We thoroughly enjoyed the lesson and then decided to practice what we had learned. So we headed down a long, lovely, two-mile slope, taking the time to enjoy the beautiful scenery as we passed by. At the bottom of the hill, we decided that we'd had enough and wanted to leave. Suddenly, we realized our mistake. The only way back to the parking lot was to go back up that lovely, long slope on our cross country skis. My warm ski clothes quickly turned into a sauna suit. Reaching the car about an hour later, I exclaimed I was ravenous but my husband replied I would have to wait until we got to our hotel in Reno. Beyond exhausted and starving, I was dragged to our room. By this time, my growling stomach was competing with my heavy eyelids. The eyelids won out and I laid down full-clothed for a nap. After what seemed like five minutes, Tom (who insisted it was 30) prodded me awake and said I had 15 minutes to get dressed. After I haphazardly threw myself together, he took me for a "bite" (again Tom said our time was limited) and then led me to the casino theater and seated me in the middle of the third row from the stage. I still had no idea who was performing until the curtains parted and Natalie Cole walked out. It was a wonderful performance which featured many duo remixes with both her and her father, Nat. She was truly a great entertainer and I am so glad I had the opportunity to see her. So that first Valentine's Day as a married couple was both the worst and the best. The worst in terms of exhaustion and starvation, and the best in terms of memorable experiences. Best or worst, Natalie and Nat summed it up in a word: "Unforgettable." — Pam Formeller A paper route to her heart Here is my Valentine story. In 1951, I was 15 years old and babysitting for a neighbor. A 16-year-old boy named Bill knocked on the door and said he was collecting for the newspaper. He delivered papers on his bicycle and lived in the neighborhood. He started coming around every time I babysat. We became a couple and went through high school together. On our first Valentine's Day together, he sent me a dozen red roses (paid for with his paper delivery money). What 16-year-old boy would do that?! Of course those were the first flowers I had ever received! On Valentine's Day in 1954, he gave me an engagement ring and we were married in 1955 (I was 19, he was 20). This year we will celebrate our 61st wedding anniversary. Every year since 1951, he has sent me flowers (65 years!) on Valentine's Day, but none of them were ever as special as those first roses he sent when I was 15 years old. — Doris Chambers It's the thought that counts, right? About eight years ago, I had an unusual and spendy Valentine's event. I had driven from Jacksonville to Medford for an evening meeting and had extracted a promise from my husband, Martin Burke, that he would remain at home. He was in the early stages of dementia. When I came home later in the evening in a very heavy fog, I could barely find the street sign for Andesite Road at its intersection with Cady Road. Spotting the sign, I started to turn onto Andesite when my headlights picked up a red car with a white top, which my husband had restored for his collection of old cars. The car was in the ditch next to the mailboxes at the corner. Not wishing to take a chance of going in the ditch myself, I chose to go home and see whether he was there and not in the car, hurt! He was in bed, very calm. He told me two neighbors had offered to pull the car out in the morning when the fog might be gone. When I went to check on the car the next morning, I found a wrecker, a fire engine and a sheriff's car beside the corner. The wrecker took care of the unhurt car. The sheriff wrote a ticket for "improper parking," which we went to pay at Central Point later. Martin had gone to Bi-Mart on Jacksonville Highway to get me a valentine and a gift. He got a box of small children's valentines and two boxes of what he thought were brownies (because of the picture on the box). I took the valentines and one box of brownie MIX back. Between the opened box of mix and the ticket, which I think was $78, I figure that Valentine's Day adventure only cost about $80, probably the most expensive Valentine for me ever. But you've gotta love the thought! — Lola Burke, Medford Dad's kept promise brings greatest gift In Southern Oregon, at a young age and in a small town, my dad passed away. I had just turned 19 and was starting my first year of college. I remember as if it were yesterday. I was at school and received a call to come to the front desk. It was there I learned of his passing. My dad was a truck driver for Mayflower Trucking, but he had done lots of different jobs to keep us going. I remember he was home each night for dinner. Sometimes my mom worked, too, and he would make dinner. He had a gruff voice that would scare toddlers, but he loved kids and had a kind heart. With little education and raised on a dairy farm with six brothers by a Swiss-born father, he had been taught that work comes first, before school. A few weeks before he passed, Dad asked me what I wanted for Valentine’s Day. I quickly answered,"Flowers, of course.” Later that day I told him I actually wanted him to write down his stories of his life growing up and his father’s life in Switzerland. A few weeks later after hearing the news of his passing, I was buying flowers for his memorial and had forgotten about our talks about gifts for Valentine’s Day. Going through his belongings after his funeral, I found an unexpected treasure. Among his things were five pages of his life story he had started for me. I held them close and made copies for my siblings. I returned to school and was glad to get back to work. My dad always said hard work cured many things. It was Valentine’s Day when I returned to school and once again I was called to the front desk. Sitting on the front desk was a beautiful vase of roses. “Who are they from?"everyone screamed. I curiously opened the card and saw the words, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Love, Dad.” I treasure that card today 38 years later. My dad’s promise was kept and he finished up his work before he left this Earth. Like Mosiah 2:17, my dad knew what it meant to serve God. As much as I loved the flowers, his greatest gift was the five pages of family history that I found in his belongings. — Lois Jorgensen Swiffered spider spells disastrous dinner Ten years ago, I prepared for Valentine's Day by attending an elaborate cooking class so that we could celebrate the day at home instead of at a crowded restaurant. I made individual beef Wellingtons, a beautiful salad and a scrumptious panna cotta for dessert. While we were having a glass of wine, I spied a large spider on the ceiling. I attacked him with my trusty Swiffer, fell over my own crossed feet and fell onto the hardwood floor. Dinner was canceled and we spent the rest of the evening in the ER where I was put in a cast for a broken shoulder. — Jean Zebedee, Medford Smitten at first sight Valentine's Day of 1967 was our first day of college at Sonoma State. After going through the breakfast line in Jack London Hall, I was introduced to four young women. One of them flooded me with love at first sight. Not being good at names, I kept reminding myself that her name is "Katy." This morning Katy and I drank coffee in front of a fire, same thing that we've done over 7,000 times. Our youngest granddaughter played noisily while our youngest daughter talked about moving into her new home. It's been a wonderful life with countless blessings. Who were the other three women that I was introduced to that Valentine's morning in 1967? I can only guess. — Ron Smith, Medford The gift that has given for 25 years I had left a marriage realizing that the last 10 years had been a true waste for me and there had to be life after divorce. I was seeing Arlyce, who lived 200 miles from me, and was struggling with what to give her for Valentine's Day and was not coming up with any good choices from the normal options. It was clear to me that I was going to marry Arlyce. I called her and explained my problem with selecting a gift and told her I had come up with something a bit unique to give her. "What is it?" she asked. "Me," I responded, and asked her to marry me. I think we both cried and I still get teary when reflecting on it. Last month we celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary and look forward to many more. — Dale Ten Broeck, Rogue River It's never too late to be a princess My late husband, Cotty, and family were always thoughtful and surprising me on Valentine's Day. However, the most exciting was last year, when I was selected as the Valentine Princess representing my Sorority chapter, Torchbearer Gamma of Beta Sigma Phi, for the annual Valentine Ball at Rogue Valley Country Club. My escort was my school classmate since first grade in Sioux Falls, S.D. His wife had passed some years ago; we had kept in touch all these years. What excitement — 80 years old, selected a princess for a Valentine Ball, flowers, a gown, a tiara and a handsome prince charming to escort me. I felt like a teenager again. An event to always cherish. We continue to enjoy each other’s company! — Joan Middendorf A painful reminder it doesn't always work out Valentine's Day, 1959, an old family friend, the Rev. Carrick, of First Presbyterian Church, San Francisco, married Mr. and Mrs. Richard Darling in a quickie wedding because the bride and groom were starting college the following Monday. Their ceremony was sandwiched between several others, Valentine's Day being a popular day for weddings. Every wedding has a glitch. In the Darlings' case, their wedding bands were engraved backwards. During the ceremony, when the bride realized the ring he put on her was too big, she whispered, "Don't push your ring all the way on!" Too late. He already had. The groom was whisked down the aisle and into the bathroom to quickly work the ring off with soap before his finger swelled and the ring had to be cut off. They made it! It was an excitement they could have done without. Ten years later, the Darlings divorced, ruining Valentine's Day forever. It is an annual reminder of two starry-eyed kids looking at their future through rose-colored glasses with romanticized expectations. They thought it was forever. All these years later, it still feels like a failure. Can't help wondering if the other couples married by Rev. Carrick that day have been more successful. — Rae Wills Best Valentine's gift ever My best Valentine's was the day my son, Matt, was born. My husband and I had planned on natural childbirth. However, that didn't work out. I started having a problem with high blood pressure, and they finally put me in the hospital on complete bed rest. When my blood pressure was in a good range, they induced labor. My son was born about 9 p.m. He had a little jaundice, so had to stay in the hospital an extra day or two. Otherwise, however, he was very healthy. My son is now a teacher. He has his own family: his wonderful wife, Natalie, and two daughters, Kylee and Catelyn. Unfortunately for me, they now live on the East Coast. Every birthday, I tell Matt he is the best Valentine's gift I've ever been given. — Linda Roan Wildmare, Medford It began with a kiss On Valentine Day, 1941, while saying goodnight and presenting a large box of chocolates to a beautiful 16-year-old (she says she was 16¾) named Carole, we stepped into the downstairs apartment entryway for a goodnight kiss. The kissing got rather amorous and we decided that I was to date only her. Our previous dates comprised only walking home from separate church functions (choir practice) with several other local teenage girls. Two of the girls were redheaded twins, with whom I immediately fell “in love.” I had tried to arrange the walks so that I could walk the redheads last, but Carole had her own idea as to who should be last. Carole’s mother frequented their apartment entrance at the top of the stairs to remind her only daughter that it was “past her bedtime.” Carole’s mother and father had been separated for quite some time and he was living in the D.C. area. Anyway, Carole won and six months later (with help and urging from my visiting brother Earl), we decided to elope and were soon on our way to Springfield to Earl’s home. We spent our first night together on a floor pad, but not before calling Carole’s mother to announce our intentions. Obviously she was distraught, but was I thankful she did not call the police. The next morning (Sunday, Sept. 13, 1942), Earl and his wife drove us to St. Louis, where he had prearranged our wedding to be performed by a justice of the peace, with his family as witnesses. Since we both were underage (I was two months short of 21), we could not be married in Illinois. Immediately after the wedding, we drove back to Springfield, called Carole’s mother and “hopped on a bus” back to Chicago, as husband and wife. In Chicago we both had jobs, but money was still tight. We were able to rent a small apartment near Carole’s high school, which she hated, but that’s another story. This story ends with Carole and me going out to a nearby movie theater to watch Disney’s (in color!) motion picture "Fantasia." The next morning we were serenaded by our neighbors welcoming us to the neighborhood, to the strings of “My Buddy.” It’s still a tear-jerker for us. — Herm Yates, Central Point MailTribune.com Writer Posted Feb. 14, 2016 at 6:20 PM Updated Feb 14, 2016 at 6:24 PM » Comment or view comments Reader Reaction » STAY INFORMED Email NewsLetter Sign Up Today Sign up for our newsletter and have the top headlines from your community delivered right to your inbox. Southern Oregon Directory Featured Businesses Loading... 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