叵测英语美文：永远的情人节 Forever Valentine

2021年1月13日发(作者：郑宝仁)
他最后一次送给我的这张贺卡如今仍保存在我的记事牌上。它提
醒我父亲是多么地不同寻常，以 及这些年来对我是多么地重要，我知
道我有这样一位父亲，他以慷慨的胸怀、朴素的理解和一生中向他的
亲人表达祝福的能力，来保持着爱的传统。
My Forever Valentine
The traditional holidays in our house when I was a child were
spent timing elaborate meals around football games. My father tried
to make pleasant chitchat and eat as much as he could during hal
ftime. At Christmas he found time to have a cup or two of holida
y cheer and do his holly-shaped bow tie. But he didn't truly shine
until Valentine's Day.
I don't know whether it was because work at the office slowed
during February or because the football season was over. But Vale
ntine's Day was the time my father chose to show his love for the
special people in his life. Over the years I fondly thought of him
as my Valentine Man.
My first recollection of the magic he could bring to Valentine's
Day came when I was six. For several days I had been cutting o
ut valentines for my classmates. Each of us was to decorate a m
ailbox and put it on our desk for others to give us cards. That b
ox and its contents ushered in a succession of bittersweet memories
of my entrance into a world of popularity contests marked by the
number of cards received, the teasing about boyfriends/girlfriends a
nd the tender care I gave to the card from the cutest boy in class.
That morning at the breakfast table I found a card and a gift-w
rapped package at my chair. The card was signed Love, Dad,
and the gift was a ring with a small piece of red glass to represen
t my birthstone, a ruby. There is little difference between red glass
and rubies to a child of six, and I remember wearing that ring wi
th a pride that all the cards in the world could not surpass.
As I grew older, the gifts gave way to heart-shaped boxes fille
d with my favorite chocolates and always included a special card si
gned Love, those years my thank-yousbecame more
of a perfunctory cards seemed less important, and I t
ook for granted the valentine that would always be there. Long pas
t the days of having a mailboxon my desk, I had placed my h
opes and dreams in receiving cards and gifts from significant oth
ers, and Love, Dadjust didn't seem quite enough.
If my father knew then that he had been replaced, he never let
it show. If he sensed any disappointment over valentines that didn'
t arrive for me, he just tried that much harder to create a positive
atmosphere, giving me an extra hug and doing what he could to m
ake my day a little brighter.
My mailbox eventually had a rural address, and the job of han
d-delivering candy and cards was relegated to the Servic
e. Never in ten years was my father's package late--nor was it on t
he Valentine's Day eight years ago when I reached into the mailbo
x to find a card addressed to me in my mother's handwriting.
It was the kind of card that comes in an inexpensive assortmen
t box sold by a child going door-to- door to try to earn money for
a school project. It was the kind of card that you used to get from
a grandmother or an aging aunt or, in this case, a dying father. It
was the kind of card that put a lump in your throat and tears in
your eyes because you knew the person no longer was able to go
out and buy a real valentine. It was a card that signaled this woul
d be the last you receive from him.
The card had a photograph of tulips on the outside, and on the
inside my mother had printed Happy Valentine's Day. Beneath
it, scrawled in barely legible handwriting, was Love, Dad.
His final card remains on my bulletin board today. It's a remin
der of how special fathers can be and how important it had been t
o me over the years to know that I had a father who continued a