It is enough to wear patent leather shoes and walk at a brisk pace with a bottle of wine tucked under your armpit and supermarket baked bread in your hand. We are not the French. We don't know a lot about stinky cheese, but we do know that the best wine comes from California, not the Bordeaux. We might not know about love either, not like the French who invented our favorite kiss and have a language dedicated to the subject. We Americans are even as bold to drop the Saint from the holiday and wish each other the perfunctory "Happy Valentine's Day." Some of us, or perhaps most of us buy a Hallmark Greeting for someone which politely compares love to alcohol, or bumpy flights to bedroom escapades.
Cartoon characters even spout poetry.
Our children take part in the ritual too, exchanging candy and cards in school like love's currency, but it is required that you bring enough for every one in the class, even the kid who tied your shoes together and pushed you over repeatedly every time you stood up. No, we don't know love like the French. We don't even know love like the English, who invented the art of courtly love. But we do know that another person's company and a bottle of wine will get you through the evening on a cold night in February. It is enough to have a family and say "I love you."