February just kinda sneaks up on us and I know it seems like it will last forever. That may be part of the reason “they” chopped off a few days to reduce the time we have to wait on Spring. The good memories I have of my brother Gerald and me enjoying those days may have to do with those times we grabbed our .22s and headed for the woods. He loved to head for the Buck Creek Bottoms on days like this and, of course, so did I.

In my old age I moderated my habits of wanton slaughter of wild birds and squirrels which (good grief) we would take home and dress out like a deer for a special winter treat and to make some great memories. And let us not forget that February is often a good snow month. It is time to drag out a sled and head for the big hill out back of our house. Well-arranged rocks still remained from last winter inviting us to build up a good fire. We didn’t need our sleds to be pulled — we depended on gravity for our fast trips down the hill.

Another happy remembrance of my happy school days in Stonewall was our days off. This was due to a multitude of wonderful coincidences. One of those was Superintendent Duke’s concern for our well being as students. Our elegant looking but very drafty old classrooms at Stonewall Schools were heated by open-flame gas space heaters. The gas we burned came from the adjacent Fitts Field and most of the pipes were above ground and when it got very cold, ice would form in the pipes and dropping gas pressure would make it hard to heat our classrooms.

Not much learning took place on those kind of days. We, the students, were waiting impatiently for Mr. Duke to come by and read the thermometers. The magic number was 55ºF. Then, school was dismissed for the protection of the students. What a wonderful life.

In grade school all the kids exchanged valentines. Even the boys. I don’t know at what age we discovered the foolishness in that and found out it was the little girls we should be pursuing, it may have been about the 5th grade. I remember one Valentine’s Day that our teacher admonished one girl who shuffled her valentines, separating them and then walking around to various boys, handing their cards back and saying something like this: “You aren’t my valentine, I don’t even like you, so here it is back.” She was, indeed, a heartless girl.

It may already be too late for you to go buy your sweetie a card or even gift her with some “sharable” chocolates. But for those of you who remembered the date in time, great will be your reward. I remarked the other day how that every year Pat and I would order a window display of Valentine Candy hearts to fill the front window at our Pharmacy. Every year Pat would say this: “Why did you buy so many? We’ll never sell that many boxes of Valentine chocolates.

I always gathered up my bluster, admonishing her of being too pessimistic. I was always so full of confidence — that is until the actual day. I always opened up on that cold Valentine’s Day full of wonder. I wondered, “What was I thinking?” As the day wore on I would make frequent trips up front and perhaps even count how many boxes we had left. I don’t remember now just how many heart shaped boxes of chocolates I would have, but by 2PM it seemed a task impossible to sell out. Then there were the Hallmark Cards.

I wondered, “My gosh, are they reproducing themselves at night?” I never had seen so many. The good old Hallmark guy would (thankfully) pick up the no sales. Not so, Kings Chocolates. As the day drifted away, I kept a cautious count on my chocolates, as I counted out my pills in the back. But, much to Pat’s surprise, as the February sun set in the west, business picked up and we again, had a complete sell out and more than once were delayed in closing waiting on customers who were tardy, yet on time, picking up their Valentine chocolate for their “Valentine.”

Retirement has taken away the fun we had helping our customers to enjoy this goofy month we call February. Don’t forget to go to church Sunday. February Sundays count too.

Wayne Bullard, DPh cwaynebullard@gmail. com