Whitman's Sampler

I’ve just now discarded the emptied box of chocolates, a remnant from Christmas.  Valentine's Day is near.  Another box will take its place.  It’s my dad’s influence.

The love between my parents, John and Iva Woods, was apparent in the respect they gave each other; how they responded to what concerned the other.

It was evident in the creative toil and faithful attention of my father in his role as the family’s provider, just as love was evident in how mother’s housekeeping and caring for all of us centered on what my father appreciated. 

Her love for him was surely the only way my mother withstood whatever discomfort and anxiety she couldn’t ignore as she hung tough in their parenting partnership year after year.  (Read my memoir, Black Star Girl).  She loved him; he loved her.

My dad enjoyed talking; discussing the newspapers and magazines he read, sharing his thoughts.  They talked, laughed and planned together. Daddy also loved to tease – but expressing love? -  Not when I was around.  In fact, never did I hear either one of them say, “I love you honey”,  “I love you babe”,  “You know I love you dear.”

Without fail, though, on Valentine’s Day and on Christmas,  my father would come home with the yellow box, distinctive graphics and floral design on the outside and an assortment of chocolates inside.   He would unceremoniously hand it to my mother and say, not sternly at all, to my siblings and me - standing there watching, “it’s your Mother’s, not yours”.   She would smile sweetly.

At the time it was just a box of candy.  Over the years, it became a memory that reminds me of the love between daddy and mother.  So, when I go about doing what needs to be done for Christmas, I buy a Whitman’s Sampler box of candy for a prominent spot on the buffet.

And, for Valentine's Day too, those uniquely boxed chocolates will grace my home.  It’s a tradition.   It’s about love.

Happy Valentine's Day.