bees, epilepsy, and the plague

with a side of love and consumerism

last updated on 14th february

My AP US History teacher made fun of Valentine's Day last week.

According to him, St. Valentine was either a priest or a bishop (historical records are fuzzy), and he supposedly performed secret marriages for Roman soldiers, defying Emperor Claudius II's ban on marriage. The emperor believed that single men made better soldiers. You know, less emotional attachments, fewer reasons to hesitate on the battlefield.

But Valentine thought love was more important than imperial decrees. When he was caught, he was arrested, tortured, and ultimately beheaded.

Valentine's Day, as we know it, has more to do with medieval poets—especially Geoffrey Chaucer—than with the saint himself.

Apparently, people in the Middle Ages believed that mid-February was when birds began to mate, which is how the day got linked to romance.

From there, it spiraled into what we have today: heart-shaped candies, greeting cards, and modern-day consumerism at its finest.

Oh, and St. Valentine became the patron saint of beekeepers, epilepsy, and the plague.

Bees. Epilepsy. The plague.

Not exactly the most romantic of associations.

Despite all that, I still like Valentine's Day. Not because of the chocolates or the flowers or the cards, but because it's a day to celebrate love.

And love, in all its forms, is worth celebrating.

(But in all honesty, I like any excuse to eat chocolate.)