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Show (we were all there to see "Turning Point.") What perfect per-fect casting that she, would be vafcfancer. Jhil had done quite J .well for himself; "he was a comedy writer in Hollywood had a fancy car, nice clothes and a lovely lady. It was a week before Valentine's Day and I wanted to ask him if he remembered that awful box of chocolates from so very long ago. (I mean if he is a comedy writer, that certainly should V-V . S$ "fern- J ' ' lpye it.. And it's O.K. to say that on Valentine's Day, love is: the password of the day. 'Hand-holding,, hugging and sneaking kisses are all acceptable accept-able behavior today. Scribbled with a backward letter "e", is there nothing so touching to a parent as the three words painfully scratched scratch-ed out "I Love You." Another day this would sound terribly sentimental (it still may today), but I. feel like that ackward, small child saying, "I Love You, Park City." Your mines and minds, your stone stiuctures and Victorian doll-houses, doll-houses, your depot building and projects on the right track (as opposed to the Whistle Stop variety)...! love your mountain with fresh powder Valentines... 1 I can remember the first one that ever counted. ..I was thirteen. Oh, now mind you, I can remember Valentines before that; special giant envelopes in a classroom filled by classmates with scribbled invitations to "Be Mine." But the first Valentine that really counted was a box of candy given to me by a (gasp) boy. Phil Althouse was a shy suitor; I had no clue as to his affections until he showed up at my doorstep, rang the bell, thrust a box of chocolates in my stomach and turned around and ran home. I was certain this was the start of "the real thing" and my heart pounded louder than Gene - Pitnev cano on the radio. It 1 was a box of chalky chocolates that came in those marvelous-ly marvelous-ly tacky red fake-satin boxes... I kept that bos for years. (In fact, I think my mother still has it in a box of memories of mine in California.) Being remotely tickled, I think it was the following week I fell madly in love with a guitar player in a junior high band. (I think he looked my direction twice, singing a Gene Pitney song, and I was certain it was "destiny" for us...). Thirteen year old girls are so wonderfully wonder-fully romantic. . Two years ago on a business trip to Southern California, I ran into Phil Althouse in the lobby of '. a little theatre in . Westwood Village. W bumped into each other at the popcorn counter (funny how every major event in life I can remember what I had to eat!) .When I was wheeled out of the delivery room after the birth of my second child, I can remember the doctor asking if I needed anything; he, of course, meaning for the pain: to which 1 replied, "Yes. dinner. Did I miss the evening meal?" He laughed and a grey pork chop with an undistin-guishable undistin-guishable sauce appeared at my bedside.) Anyway, back to Phil. ..Luckily he recognized me; I mean how awful to have been forgotten by your first love, right? He introduced me to his unnecessarily beautiful - lady-friend who was a dancer i be worth a couple of laughs.) But, I decided to let he and his terribly thin dancer friend go in and enjoy the show. I gathered my popcorn (buttered), (butter-ed), large coke, and box of Raisinetts and headed to a dark spot in the theatre. If only I hadn't been so quick to fall for the guitar player.. .ah, hindsight... Gene Pitney and Phil Alt-house, Alt-house, now years behind me, I still think Valentine's Day is special. I love the candy hearts that sav "Be Mine," "Lover Boy," and "Hot Stuff." Little lacy red and white, handmade hand-made paper doily cards and long stem red roses (currently comparable in price to an ounce of gold) are all part of the holiday that I love. It is a holiday created by romantists and berated by realists, but I days, bluebird skies and lit-up lit-up at night like a magical fairyland. The cynics will call me after this column, and tell mc about the "uglies" that lurk there and there, but "love is blind", at least for today. Strike a vein?. ..Happy Valentine's Valen-tine's Day Park City... a part of you will always "be mine." (And Happy Valentine's Day Phil Althouse, where ever you are,..) Love Jamie. |