Apparent Day

So here is another holiday, yet distanced far from the stoic remembrance of Groundhog Day. Valentine's Day is, apparently, the celebration of romantic love. It seems specific to romantic love, not familial love nor the love of camaraderie. Yet this, the most blatant and supposedly strongest and longstanding of bonds, must entitle a holiday to remind one that he is engaged in it.

This is a common thread for this region: a series of ritual-rituals for sensations and duties which we are all supposedly expected to keep ever-present regardless. There is a celebration for patriotism, for thankfulness, for ecological stewardship, and for remembering the importance of religious figures. Yet, one would assume that the followers of the lapin and the rotund German would hold their figures in high esteem all-year-round, not just overnight. There are holidays reserved for the hard-won dignity of the Irish and the Mexicans, who spend the rest of the year ignored at best, and vilified at worst.

In fact, the only common thread within all of these holidays is the imbibing of alcohol, a practice most people of this region partake in regularly, regardless of commemoration or hoopla. I assume there will be alcohol supped on this night as well, and all of the coital trappings inherent. Perhaps if alcohol itself were given a holiday, it would fall into disuse the rest of the year as well.