Roses are Red, Uncle Kevin is Blue, That is All.

Dear Connor,

Hey guy, it's been a minute. Let's do a quick catch up of what's gone down since my last letter: Happy New Year! Snow. How bout that Super Bowl? Snow. So Egypt, huh? Crazy. More snow.

Wow, awesome catch up. Now on to the real subject, Valentine's Day. V-Day. The Most Romantic Day of the Year. Cupid's Christmas. (I made that last one up, but it's pretty good, right?)

Valentine's Day has a rich history of heart shaped chocolate boxes, red roses, kisses beginning with Kay, men going to Jared, women telling friends that their men went to Jared, and single people everywhere pretending it's just another day.

Which brings me to my next point, Valentine's Day is just another day. I'm not saying it's a complete farce conspired by the greeting card, flower, heart shaped box, and chocolate companies to exploit the notion of love and romance just to make a dollar--I'm not saying that because I'm not Ethan Hawke's character from "Reality Bites".

What I am saying is I don't really understand the idea of scheduled romance. Seems counter-intuitive. Romance by its very definition seems to imply some level of spontaneity and impulse, doesn't it? If it's a day scheduled once a year that is similarly celebrated by millions of people doesn't it lose its zeal, its originality, its genevevufrancesomesoshe? (I don't know what that word is or what it means, but you get it.)

And I'm not saying that because of some horrible scarring memory involving Valentine's Day that lead me to be the sad lonely person you know today. That would be ridiculous and predictable. It would be predictably ridiculous and ridiculously predictable.

So this is what happened...

I was in the 3rd grade--I think. And for the first time I was excited for Valentine's Day because for the first time I really wanted a Valentine's Day card. Not just any card, but a card from a girl in my class. A girl named Jamie. I didn't know why, but I loved her. Jamie had blond hair and blue eyes, so we obviously had a lot in common. (I think one of Gladwell's books saying this matters. Maybe Blink.) She was also the smallest girl in class. Something about this was disarming and endearing. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. Sure I was only 10-years-old, but who knows when you'll see the most beautiful girl you'll ever see? You may have already seen her and you've only been around for 23 months.

So when I got her card I knew she liked me. Sure, she gave everyone in class a card, but mine said, "I choo, choo, choose you" and had a picture of a train on it. Actually, now that I think about it, that may have been the card Ralph Wiggum got from Lisa Simpson. I may not remember what the card said, but I do remember it had my name on it, which meant she knew my name. Out of all the dozen of other guys in the class, she knew my name. She had to like me, right? Right, Connor?!?

Well, I never found out. When I got home, I took that card and I stuck it under my pillow--cause that's where things go that you love or expect a fairy to replace with a dollar. Though I would have gave the Tooth Fairy a serious pounding if she tried to take this card and leave me a measly dollar. This card was priceless. Thankfully the Tooth Fairy never got to it, unfortunately someone way, way, worse did...your Evil Uncle Ryan.

That's right! A long, long, time ago in the same room your weekday crib is now, your Awesome Uncle Kevin and your Evil Uncle Ryan forcefully coexisted. And when the Scar to my Mufasa (your Evil Uncle Ryan) found Jamie's Valentine under my pillow he did what all evil brothers do...he tormented me. I, of course, denied all involvement with this mysterious card under my pillow. No idea how it got there. Must have been there when we moved in. Prolly was the last kid who lived in this room. What a dork, huh? I'm being framed I tell ya, FRAMED!!! I felt just like my hero at the time, Mr. Roger Rabbit.

After that humiliation I never spoke to Jamie in fear that it would be obvious to everyone in class and they too would mock me the way your Evil Uncle Ryan did. Sure, I avoided ridicule (at least for that), but I may have also avoided the love of my life.

Since then I've spent my life developing a cold heartless shell around me that protects me from the haunting taunting (I feel as though I should rephrase that to 'unsettling insults' or 'terrible teasing', but I thought of 'haunting taunting' first so we'll go with it) of your Evil Uncle Ryan.

I may not have a solid grasp on space or time, but a short time after this I moved to Las Vegas and have yet to open my heart the way I did with Jamie the tiny girl who had the same hair and eye color as me. I don't know what happened to Jamie. Somewhere along the line we lost touch. She stopped being in the same class or school or state as me and as such I could no longer stare at her from across the room. The cold heartless shell I developed has provided me the emotional armor I've needed to survive since I lost her.

I feel like there was a point to this story and that point had some kind of positive message to convey...hmmm...I guess the moral of this story is don't be like me. Don't let yourself be bullied by the naysayers or cynics. Sure, Valentine's Day may just be another reason for us all to buy things we don't need for reasons we can't really explain, but no one celebrates this day with people they don't love or at least like enough to put an effort in, so there's gotta be some good that comes from that. Certainly nothing bad comes of it. At the very least, more people say I love you today than any other day of the year. That's got to have a positive affect on the world.

Finally, I know you've got a little brother coming soon. And say he comes home from school one day and puts a Valentine's Day card under his pillow. Don't be a jerk to him about it. Encourage him to talk to her cause that could be his wife one day. You could be responsible for your little brother's lifetime of happiness or his lifetime of regret and current state of crippling loneliness. She Could Have Been My Wife, Ryan!!!

Be a Mufasa, Connor, not a Scar. Not like your Evil Uncle Ryan.

Don't be like Ryan.

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin