Tracing Origins Valentine’s Day

January 11, 1922.  The back room of Values at Tiny’s General Store, somewhere in America.

“What’s the matter Boss? Why the long face?”

“Oh, it’s all this-here inventory I’m stuck with,” Tiny complained.  “Sales were slow over Christmas, I’ve got all this darn c y that didn’t sell.  I still got me four cases a’ those stuffed bears I thought the kiddies would want.  And to top it all off, that fast talk’n’ salesman from Omaha sold me all that red wrapp’n paper, an’ it didn’t sell neither.  I got me a back room stuffed to the rafters with choco-lat stuffed bears red paper, nothin’ to do with it!”

“That is a problem Boss.  Ain’t no holi-days coming up where people want c y nor stuffed bears until the Fourth of Ju-ly.  And if it gits hot like it did last spring, we’ll have us a big ol’ puddle of choco-lat long before anyone gits to buying anything.”

“See, that’s just it,” said Tiny.  “Ain’t enough holi-days where people eat c y.  Nobody wants the darn stuff for Washington’s or Lincoln’s birthdays.  Easter’s okay, but it’s all bunnies junk, not stuffed bears, none of the boxed choco-lats like we got all over this here back room.  I’m gonna go broke!”

“Ya know whatcha outta do, Boss?  You outta invent yerself a new holi-day where’s ya can move all this junk.  One that’s all about c y stuffed bears!  Now wouldn’t that jus’ be sumthin!”
Tiny paused, looking at his assistant with new respect.  “Buford, you’re mostly an idiot.  But this time, you’ve actually hit on something.  A br new holi-day!  One that’s all about buy’n’ stuffed bears ya don’t need then swallow’n’ down just as much choco-lat as a person can possibly stomach an’ still be a-st in’!  

“Boss, I was just joshin’ wit ya.  I didn’t mean to actually-”

“Hush up Buford.  Don’t ruin the only good thought you’re likely to have this year by tryn’ to think about it.  It’s a good idea because I said it’s a good idea, it’s the best way to get rid a’ all this c y stuff!  But first we need a theme.  Some reason to have a holi-day where people buy lots lots of c y stuffed bears things.  Hey Melanie – come on in here!”

Melanie, Tiny’s star – only – salesperson came in from the front of the store.  “What!  I’ve got things to do out there you know!”

“Never mind that now.  I got me a brainstorm to move all this here c y an’ these cases a’ stuffed Teddy bears.  Quick now, you’re a female-type person.  If I was want’n’ to invent me a holi-day, what do you recon would get a person would buy some c y or a stuffed bear.”
Melanie looked at Tiny Buford, shook her head, but knew better than to ask.  She thought for a moment.  “Well, there’s birthdays anniversaries, but those won’t work for a holiday.  So, two other times.  When a man’s courting a woman, or when he’s in trouble trying to get his butt out of the doghouse.”

Tiny chewed on that a moment.  “Soooo.  Man woman stuff.  Re-lay-shun-ships.”  He sounded out the word, a bit foreign on his tongue.  More mental chewing.  “Yeah.  YEAH!!  By gosh by golly, it’s perfect.  Ain’t no-one gonna spend money like a guy pursuing a gal.  If we tell ‘im c y’s the way to her heart, then pile on an extra heap’n’ a’ guilt if he don’t buy a big Teddy bear to go with it, why he’ll practically buy out the store!”
Buford sat in the corner, a happy grin on his face, mentally taking all the credit even though he had no idea what was going on.  Then another thought crossed his mind, two in one day being some kind of new record.
“Boss – that’s good for the c y them bears.  But what about all them boxes a’ red wrapp’n’ paper that Omaha slickster stuck you with?”

Tiny paused again, looking back forth between Buford Melanie.  Once again, it was Melanie who came to the rescue.

“Oh for goodness sakes.  You two couldn’t shake loose of a good thought if you had a tree full of them.  If you’re going to make this all about love stuff, red’s a perfect color.  Tear the Christmas paper off the c y boxes the Teddy bears then re-wrap them in red.  And cut out some stars or something from whatever red paper we have left, put ‘em up around the store.”

“Stars,” Buford asked?  “That just don’t seem right somehow.” This was his third consecutive good thought, setting a mark he was never able to equal again in his lifetime.  

“Fine.  Moons or firecrackers or hearts.  Anything to use up the stupid paper.”

“Hearts,” said Tiny.  “Hearts are good.  Easy to make, somehow they seem kinda lovey.  Hearts it is.”  

He nodded again.  “So, we got us a theme for our br -spankin’ new holi-day.  It’ll be all about guys chasing gals buying ‘em lots lots of choco-lat stuffed bears, ‘cause that’s what we got here in inventory.  We’ll convince ‘em that the more they buy, the more the women’ll think they care!  Now all we needs is a name.”

“How about ‘Kick-A-Happy-Couple Day’,” said Melanie.  “That works for me.”

Tiny just shook his head.  “You sure is a bitter woman.  How’s about somethin’ just a tad more upbeat?”

The three sat stared at each other, but no ideas came to mind.  Finally, Tiny spoke up.  “Well, it’s my holi-day, my store, so I’m gonna name it after me.”

“’Tiny’s Day’”, said Melanie?  “’Overstocked C y Day’ ‘Red Paper Day’?  None of that makes any sense, Boss.”

“Okay, okay.  It’s Values at Tiny’s General Store.  We drop the General Store, an’ shorten up the Value the Tiny’s, an’ then maybe combine ‘em.”  He grabbed the stub of a pencil began scribbling.  “So how about ‘Val Tiny’s Day’?”

“Shorter”, said Melanie.

“Val-N-Tin’s Day?”

“Perfect.  Now let’s start wrapping c y boxes cutting out those stupid red paper hearts.”

And, as they say, the rest is history…..

Paul Bianchina can be reached at paul2887@ykwc.net for comments.

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