Really, where is the love?

By Christopher DaCosta

Legends dictate that St. Valentine was a noble Roman martyr, most likely of the collar and most likely a passionate advocate for hot, steamy-vows of chastity. Other claims to fame include siring the world's most renowned cherubic, mischief-maker -- that brat with the arrows -- and creating the world's first construction paper Valentine, sending infinite ripples of inspiration in curricula-form to second grade teachers everywhere.

But like Kate and Orlando, that's all ancient history. The popular theory is that St. Valentine more closely resembled a shifty, sweaty, Trump-esque character who lives atop a tower, spawns things with names like Ivanka and makes bizarre hand gestures when hiring apprentices.

While many bemoan the capitalistic nature of Valentine's Day, I do not; I stand in solidarity with my Leavey School brethren. However, let's not fall victim to the usual cliches and discuss how much precious money we're squandering for the day of love or how much we're in vile protest of a holiday created and financed by the Hallmark company or how people like Star Jones make us deathly ill (yeah, I don't know where that came from, either). Instead, much like the urgency of many bodily functions, there is a pressing need to discuss love. More specifically, as the Black Eyed Peas would put it: "Where's the love, y'all?"

I'm not talking about the sort of love that one finds in solidified chalk-dust form, emblazoned with cheeky scripts, or the sort that one finds on the cramped, moist dance floor at IceHouse. What I am talking about is the gesture behind saving the last cold one in the fridge for your roomie, being on the other end of the phone-line with your keys in hand when your girlfriend needs a ride home from Darkside, or just a simple honest compliment "without hope or agenda" (thanks "Love, Actually!") to the girl who sits in front of you in marketing.

With the realization that winter quarter is hell on earth and that sometimes "love in practice is harsher than love in dreams," as Dostoyevsky once said, I've noticed people have essentially shutoff their capacity to feel and find meaning this season. If not to appease the original interpretation of St. Valentine, we should all attempt to shed our hardy exteriors and show a little love.

* Contact Christopher DaCosta at (408) 554-4546 or cdacosta@scu.edu.