Here are a few more Valentine’s Day memories.
“We had been married for about 19 years in 1989,” wrote Karen Valandra.
In that time, her husband had given her some nice cards. “But on this particular year a dozen red roses were delivered to the faculty room where I was teaching. A few teachers teared up with me. The card said, ‘Be Mine, Dave.’ ”
Karen was surprised. “I wondered when I got home if there was something he wanted to apologize for.”
Dave assured her that was not the case.
A couple of weeks later, Karen was in a flower shop. “The owner asked if I liked the flowers.”
It seems the florist had seen Dave on his way to a mail box and all but demanded that he send Karen some flowers.
The Valandras lived in Wilbur at the time. “Everyone knew everyone.”
As Karen tells it, Dave followed the florist into her shop like a puppy, bought what she told him to buy and wrote a check.
Apparently florists have failed to use that effective marketing approach every year since. But maybe if it happened annually it wouldn’t be quite so special. At least that’s the way Karen sees it.
“Here I am, almost 30 years later, still thankful for her tenacity.”
Marilyn Ray remembers going to a late movie with her boyfriend on the night of Feb. 13. By the time they got out and were almost home, it was the 14th.
He stopped and presented her with an engagement ring. “Fifty-seven years later, same husband, same rings.”
Judy Foster remembers how, back in February 1982, her boyfriend, John, asked if she would like to go up to his parents’ lake place in northern Stevens County for Valentine’s Day weekend.
Judy agreed. But getting to the cabin involved hiking with their groceries through the snow. Then she learned that using the facilities meant visiting a frigid outhouse. “Isn’t this going to be fun?” she thought.
But soon John had a fire going and had put everything away. Then he presented Judy with a box of Valentine’s chocolates and a red rose. “He said, ‘You’re the only woman I’ve ever brought up here. Happy Valentine’s Day.’”
They will have been married 35 years this summer.
The case for spring: “Slipped on black ice getting out of our truck at Costco,” wrote Kathy Sisser of Spokane Valley. “Hit my head on the running board and fractured the top of my right elbow. Ouch!”
Today’s Slice question: What looks different about Spokane when you see the city in dreams?
Write The Slice at P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210; call (509) 459-5470; email firstname.lastname@example.org. A colleague calls those instances when you slip on ice and almost go down “cartoon moments.”