I started dating my wife in December 2006. Around six weeks into our relationship, I asked her what she might like to do for Valentine’s Day. “I’m planning to study with Jusveer (her best friend from Med School) that night.” Oh dear, I thought, the end is nigh.
As it happens, Joana just isn’t into Valentine’s Day. (”A Hallmark holiday if ever there was one! Why would I want to sit in a restaurant crowded with awkward couples, eating overpriced food? If you really care about someone, you should show it every day; not just once a year.”) I wasn’t about to get my relationship pink slip after all, but the bar had just been palpably raised.
This weekend, instead of Valentine romance at Dartmouth’s 100th Winter Carnival, I played in the Texas Winter Classic MBA Soccer Tournament against 23 other programs from around the country. We had a very international team (see starting line-up below) and won our group without conceding a goal.
Unfortunately, my tournament was cut short in the quarter finals when a late, reckless challenge from a West Philadelphian opponent dislocated my knee cap. The trip back from Austin last night was a blast, as you can imagine. (Congratulations to UCLA, who won the tournament.)
Anyway, to happier tales. Though it has at best tenuous links to Tuck, I wanted to share with you my favorite romantic tale from the past year this Valentine’s Day.
My maternal grandparents, Jack and Margaret, married in Scotland in 1941. The following July, my mother was born. Leaving war-torn Europe behind, John’s sister Mary left for Vancouver, Canada. On January 28th (my birthday) 1945, John was shot and killed in action on the Dutch-German border. Margaret raised my mother alone and two years after my parents married, Margaret met and married a Dutchman, Theo, and moved to Holland. Bear with me; this gets good.
Decades later, Margaret got a letter from Canada. Mary’s son, Art, and his wife Dolores, were planning a trip to Europe and wanted to meet up with their family there. A rendezvous ensued and a god time was had by all. Shortly thereafter, dementia took a hold of both Art and Margaret. Theo and Dolores maintained correspondence to update each other on their spouse’s condition until, within two months of each other in early 2008, Margaret and Art both passed away. Fast approaching his 80s, and with a lifelong fear of flying, Theo boarded a jet for only the third time ever and headed to Vancouver. He and Dolores found solace and companionship together and in January this year tied the knot! Now, they summer in British Columbia and winter in the Netherlands.
That’s what I call a Valentine’s Day story! My date tonight is at Tip Top in White River Junction, Vermont, with Alessandro Varisco, CEO of Italian fashion house, Moschino. He gave an excellent talk in class today and I can’t wait for dinner!
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