Who Do You Love on Valentines Day? - Mickey Hadick the Writer

It’s Valentines Day, which is a nice holiday for adults with a romantic partner, but kind of bonkers for everyone else, especially school kids. I was in Target picking up chocolate as a gift for my wife (“Hey big spender…” 💘) and was reminded of how parents have to scramble nowadays for the performative romance that is the exchange of valentines in school.

I wasn’t even going to mention V-day until my writing got delayed, and decided to lean into it. As you’ll see in a minute, my mind was as far from romance with this edition of the Picayune as you can get.

At five in the morning this past Sunday, after an evening of merry-making with friends, I was awakened by a medical emergency.

I took an ambulance ride to the hospital and made my way through the emergency room, which hadn’t happened to me since my emergency appendectomy. I’m grateful for how diligent and caring the medical staff remains in what is a wild, somewhat chaotic setting, especially on a weekend.

Some patients were in pain and angry, demanding drugs. Others were obstinate and uncooperative. I saw several police officers escorting patients. There were also parents with babies and small children, hoping to find some help.

The hospital room accommodations are bare minimum: those of us in need of care were seated in one of a dozen recliners in a hallway, and the nurse pushed an equipment cart up and down the row of recliners, checking our vitals. It’s actually a clever way to serve a lot of people quickly.

What’s comforting is that the dress code among patients is totally come-as-you-are. I wore my pajamas and slippers. Others were in sweats or nice jeans-and-T-shirt combos. One woman was in a fun party dress, but in a lot of pain from what I think was a snapped ankle.

I was the only patient who brought a book. I knew that the waiting times can be huge, so I wanted to take advantage. I’m not judging those who weren’t reading, of course. It’s hard to concentrate on a written narrative when you’re sick enough to be at the hospital.

Books are a big part of my life, and this medical situation reminds me that, in times of trouble, I want with me what I value most.

It got me thinking about my favorite books of all time. There are so many I love, but I think I can get close, if you’ll bear with me.

During high school and early in college, I read a lot of science fiction. My favorites were Ring World, The High Crusade, and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

Later in college, my favorites shifted to more directly subversive writing, such as Breakfast of Champions, Cat’s Cradle, and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

By the end of college, I was a fan boy of short stories by Chekhov and Hemingway (The Peasants and The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber, respectively).

Soon, though, Don Quixote by Cervantes, reigned supreme. That is, until I read The Baron in the Trees by Italo Calvino. I’ll take a moment to pitch it:

The Baron in the Trees is about the heir to a minor monarch in 18th-century Italy who, in a dispute with his father, climbs into the trees surrounding their estate and vows never to set foot on ground again. He leads an amazing life, falling in love with one of the most beautiful women in the world, fighting pirates and bandits and invaders, and becoming a leader of his community. And the ending—my God, the ending! I cry just thinking about the closing words.

Somehow, though, I had never read Ursula K Le Guin until recently. I recommend The Lathe of Heaven, which is about a man whose dreams become reality, and Ursula plays it out with deft care, twisting the story to its inevitable conclusion.

Now that I’m much older, Olga Tokarczuk’s book, Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead, is, arguably, my favorite-favorite. It’s a combination of cozy mystery, action, and horror.

How We Pick Our Favorites

What we love is influenced by our stage in life, our mood when we read something, and a dozen other things at the same time. Like any romance, we might be attracted by the cover, but it’s what’s inside that captures our love. If we’re satisfied by the ending, a book may stay on our shelf for the rest of our life.

But with a romantic partner, they better have a job if they want to hang around long term.

I think the point is that stories often provide comfort, especially when the ending satisfies, and the telling is both entertaining and compelling. I took that book with me to the emergency room like a security blanket, and as an act of hope that things would turn out okay.

Meanwhile, at My Writing Desk…

The novel progresses at a strong pace. I took a week of thoughtful consideration to figure out the best ending given everything I’ve written thus far, and I’m looking forward to writing it.

My medical concerns are being addressed, so I’m hopeful I’ll be able to finish what I’m writing and read a bunch more books.