—The Turkey Vulture Society February 14 has never been a big deal for me since the year Mason Faircloth gave Caroline Atherton a dollar valentine with a satin heart on it, while the one he stuck in my construction-paper mailbox came from a package of “25 for $2.50” with their one-size-fits-all sentiments. I was nine years old and my heart was broken. Mother didn’t laugh at me when she found me in tears after school, but she did go through all the cards I’d gotten and made me stop and think about the handmade ones. “These are the ones that came from the heart,” she told me. “Not the Hallmark ones.” As far as she was concerned, birthdays, weddings, funerals, and Christmas were the only legitimate occasions for sending cards, and then only to people who didn’t live under her roof. Even Mother’s Day was a commercial ploy to guilt people into spending money. It’s made me cynical about the public display of roses and tulips that arrive at the courthouse on birthdays, anniversaries, and Valentine’s Day.
