31. ONE FAMILY'S CHINESE CULTURE: PART I - Valentines


Culture is a fabric woven from the yarns of tradition, beliefs and values. The fabric may fade over time as well as be altered when fashioned or worn by others.

The fabric in this post is dyed red . . . Red is the colour of happiness.




February 14th: Valentine’s Day  - rose red.


I recall my first encounter with valentines as being in kindergarten (even though I had an older brother in school). It’s the lead-up to the day, and not the goods - pretty cards covered with red hearts and cut-out heart decorations glued to a paper collection bag – that linger in memory. 

The kindergarten Valentine’s Day card process back then was similar to the practice that continues today: the teacher sends home a note that lists the names of all students in the class. If parents wish their child to participate, they buy, address, and send the cards to school with their child on the appointed date.

I do not know the particulars of how my parents dealt with the cards but I can imagine it based on my memories of their patterns of doing things.

My non-English speaking mother would have made the card purchase at a five and dime store: likely not Metropolitan, though – closer to home but generally more expensive.

Instead, she would have comparison-shopped at S.S. Kresge and Woolworth’s looking for the best price for the greatest quantity and the package containing the cards with the most red on them. After all, she had been raised favouring red.

The next day, Mother would have carried them to my father at work. Waiting until there was a lull between customers, my harried father would have copied the names out; using his fountain pen and being ever so careful that he formed the letters legibly.

I do recall how my father got the cards from his restaurant on Drummond Road to me at home on Park Street in time to take to school the next day.

Late in the evening, one of his restaurant customers pulled up in front of 226 Park Street. He came in, dropped off the cards, and then got back into his rumbling dump truck which was idling at the curb.


While many parents are concerned with their children having friendships – fitting in – and see distributing valentines as a means to support this goal, I believe my parents were not necessarily concerned about my comfort amongst my peers.

I conclude this from my father’s explicit messages. Mother was the main communicator when it came to dealing with my brother and me. So when my father spoke, I really listened. 

When I started school, he instructed me to stand up straighter than anyone else when the national anthem was being sung.

Comply – be the best at whatever – and later on, you’ll be strengthened to decide for yourself and go on your way. This was his message to me.


Giving out valentines was foreign: not part of my parents’ customs but not without value. The monetary cost and inconvenience were all part of obedience to authority: teacher, school, Canadian society.

My child-self became an astute observer and performer of what was required of me. 

Following my father’s beliefs has served me well.

Bend, straighten, excel.

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