hummingwolf (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hummingwolf) wrote2003-02-15 07:59 am
hummingwolf) wrote2003-02-15 07:59 am
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My Most Memorable Valentine's Days
This first account is one I sent to my favorite mailing list a couple of years ago:
1994. It was a generally rotten day to begin with--migraine coupled with exhaustion--mitigated only by my observing some amusing V-Day encounters while I was hanging around campus (people reciting lovely poetry to each other, such as "Roses are red/Violets are black/You'd look much better/with a knife in your back"), and, with my father out celebrating with his girlfriend, I was really quite relieved to get home where I could relax and listen to music in solitude.
Somewhere around 9 p.m., my closest friend called up from campus (we'd both dropped out of school by then, but still hung around the place) and started telling me about her day. Then she began giving me addresses and phone numbers and telling me what she wanted me to tell everyone she knew after she had killed herself.
So, I spent the last 3 hours of Feb. 14 trying to talk her out of suicide. It was a wide-ranging conversation, really, involving art and literature, philosophy and religion, adoption and foster care, and quite a few other things I've forgotten. Some of it would've been hysterically funny if it had been in a work of fiction--even she managed to laugh at a lot of it, in spite of everything. After she hung up on me, I called the campus police and talked to them for a while, glad that I'd heard enough of the background noise to know which bank of phone booths she'd called me from. They managed to get to her in time, got her admitted to the local hospital, where she remained for a while. Soon after she got out, she decided to stop speaking to me, reasoning that my dialing 911--when I knew how she hated the police, social workers, doctors, and everyone else who makes their living "interfering in other people's lives"--was an act of betrayal.
The last I heard about her life was around Christmas that year, when a local newspaper included an article about her in one of those series about local people who need your help, here's the address where you can send money. Though I did receive phone calls from the hospital for a while after, people trying to locate her to get payment for their services and calling me because I was listed as next-of-kin.
One thing that's stuck with me about my conversation with the campus police Feb. 15 was the impression they gave that suicide threats and attempts weren't exactly rare on Valentine's Day.
Second most memorable Valentine's Day: One of my brothers got married. During a blizzard. That was fun--though not, I suppose, for the guests who tried driving long-distance that day.
Third most memorable Valentine's Day: This was a few weeks after I'd moved to the house where I'm living now. One of the housemates made breakfast for all of the women in the house, which is the first and only time anyone has ever given me anything (other than friendly greeting cards) for Valentine's Day. Later, most of the single housemates went into DC to see a movie. The movie was Sphere, but we enjoyed ourselves anyway.
1994. It was a generally rotten day to begin with--migraine coupled with exhaustion--mitigated only by my observing some amusing V-Day encounters while I was hanging around campus (people reciting lovely poetry to each other, such as "Roses are red/Violets are black/You'd look much better/with a knife in your back"), and, with my father out celebrating with his girlfriend, I was really quite relieved to get home where I could relax and listen to music in solitude.
Somewhere around 9 p.m., my closest friend called up from campus (we'd both dropped out of school by then, but still hung around the place) and started telling me about her day. Then she began giving me addresses and phone numbers and telling me what she wanted me to tell everyone she knew after she had killed herself.
So, I spent the last 3 hours of Feb. 14 trying to talk her out of suicide. It was a wide-ranging conversation, really, involving art and literature, philosophy and religion, adoption and foster care, and quite a few other things I've forgotten. Some of it would've been hysterically funny if it had been in a work of fiction--even she managed to laugh at a lot of it, in spite of everything. After she hung up on me, I called the campus police and talked to them for a while, glad that I'd heard enough of the background noise to know which bank of phone booths she'd called me from. They managed to get to her in time, got her admitted to the local hospital, where she remained for a while. Soon after she got out, she decided to stop speaking to me, reasoning that my dialing 911--when I knew how she hated the police, social workers, doctors, and everyone else who makes their living "interfering in other people's lives"--was an act of betrayal.
The last I heard about her life was around Christmas that year, when a local newspaper included an article about her in one of those series about local people who need your help, here's the address where you can send money. Though I did receive phone calls from the hospital for a while after, people trying to locate her to get payment for their services and calling me because I was listed as next-of-kin.
One thing that's stuck with me about my conversation with the campus police Feb. 15 was the impression they gave that suicide threats and attempts weren't exactly rare on Valentine's Day.
Second most memorable Valentine's Day: One of my brothers got married. During a blizzard. That was fun--though not, I suppose, for the guests who tried driving long-distance that day.
Third most memorable Valentine's Day: This was a few weeks after I'd moved to the house where I'm living now. One of the housemates made breakfast for all of the women in the house, which is the first and only time anyone has ever given me anything (other than friendly greeting cards) for Valentine's Day. Later, most of the single housemates went into DC to see a movie. The movie was Sphere, but we enjoyed ourselves anyway.
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If I may ask, how did you end up finding & commenting on this old post of mine? Just curious.
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