For many years, I’d send flowers to my wife’s workplace on Valentine’s Day, birthdays, and wedding anniversaries. It seemed like the thing to do because other husbands and boyfriends did the same. Joleen would always call and say that they were beautiful, ending the conversation with, “You didn’t have to!”
I would’ve felt guilty not doing so out of peer pressure alone. The sad part of this ritual was that the once-colorful flowers died within a week. Rigor mortis quickly set in with delicate petals falling to the floor. There was nothing beautiful to look at other than the vase. We ended up with gobs of them.
Back in my early years, I didn’t have ‘money to burn’ as Dad often said, with hard-earned cash spent on ‘soon to die’ flowers fitting into that category. I eventually started giving Joleen plants, but that turned into a chore once they grew bigger than their pots would allow.
A rubber tree completely took over our small living room. With no one wanting the monster, I placed it outside on a cold Alaskan winter day and watched it literally freeze to death. I believe this tropical tree actually cried out in pain.
I once thought of giving Joleen a packet of flower seeds for her birthday, but quickly nixed that idea. It seemed humorous to me, but I didn’t want to take a chance on the joke backfiring like they have countless times.
Mylar balloons took the place of flowers and plants, and all was Jim Dandy for quite a spell. Joleen would carefully deflate the balloon and place it on her office wall as a decoration. One evening, evidently, after the employees had gone home, someone snuck back in and deflated a recently delivered balloon.
Arriving at work the next morning, Joleen discovered a bright yellow, smiley face balloon had been slashed with a razor. Not knowing who might’ve done it, and at my advice, she taped things back together and placed the desecrated remnants on her wall.
When other employees asked what happened, all but one, that pretty much singled out the culprit. This gal was often referred to by others as being a few cards shy of having a full deck, for whatever that means.
A Hallmark card, along with a nice lunch or dinner, soon came to take the place of flowers, plants, and Mylar balloons for special events. I suppose there are some who’d berate me for this, especially florist shop owners. Joleen doesn’t seem to mind as long as she gets to choose the restaurant.
Why flowers seem to wield so much power on special occasions is a question I recently asked myself, so I decided to investigate. The term “flower power” refers to a slogan and movement that emerged during the 1960s as a symbol of passive resistance and nonviolence, particularly in opposition to the Vietnam War. It is closely associated with the counterculture and hippie movements, where flowers were used as symbols of peace and love.
The phrase was popularized by poet Allen Ginsberg, who encouraged people to use the beauty of flowers to protest against violence and promote harmony. Images of activists placing flowers in gun barrels or wearing floral clothing became iconic representations of this period.
That bit of internet trivia tells me absolutely nothing about why they’re considered a necessity for special events, especially funerals. My mom had a flower saying of her own, and it had to do with love, although not on the same level as hippies refer to. Mom said, “Don’t waste money on flowers when I die. If you wanna do something nice for me, do it when I’m alive.”
I heard that unusual statement several times, going back to my childhood, along with others, so it had ample time to sink in. Mother told my brother and me that once she was gone, there was nothing anyone could do for her. Her heavenly preparations had already been made.
According to her, flowers brought to her funeral would do little other than make some florist shop owner smile. Mom grew up during the depression, so her wisdom always centered on being prudent with money. I didn’t exactly follow this lesson, yet now I try to do so more and more.
Next year is our 50th wedding anniversary. Because this is a special occasion, I’ve been thinking about what I should do with flowers, plants, or balloons. Mylar balloons are now highly frowned upon, especially with the snowflake generation. That’s reason enough for me to go that direction. We’ll see.
Flowers and plants have been done so much over the years that I doubt Joleen would even get excited, other than perhaps a dozen red roses. Some premium imitation roses actually look better than the real deal, so that’s an idea.
Last on my list are bubbles. There are some really nice bubble-making machines on the market, with these units producing hundreds of bubbles of different sizes each minute. That would be a sight to behold, with the grandchildren undoubtedly finding it to their liking.
I tend to lean this direction, as that device would be enjoyable long after our anniversary is over. On a humorous note, I can even see this machine being used in places never intended, with endless possibilities. Instead of “Flower Power,” it’ll quickly become known as “Bubble Trouble.”
I like to write junk... 