I vaguely recall learning about Valentine’s Day and all its trappings in first or second grade at Monroe Street Elementary. Mrs. Sullivan was the teacher. Friend Jerry Sullivan’s mom. Jerry the “papist” went to St. Mary’s Academy. My Protestant friends and I were “pagans.” I remember making a red paper heart card bordered by white lace with the words “I Love You — Happy Valentine’s Day” written in black ink on it.

My mother, Vivian Van Slyke Lenarcic, kept it until she died. Cards aside, there was the candy. My favorite part of the Roman Emperor Claudius II’s gift to posterity. After he outlawed Christian marriage, ole Saint Valentine kept performing the ceremony, which included an exchange of flowers, until he was beheaded for his transgression on-you got it — Feb. 14.

Back to candy. Most memorable were the multicolored candy hearts in little boxes. And chocolate covered cherries. Ate a whole box once to my stomach’s dismay. But the pleasure was well worth the pain.

By fourth grade, in iconic John Homrighaus’s class (his heart-shaped cookies smothered in vanilla frosting were to kill for), we were sending Valentine cards to classmates. Can’t forget sending a special one, cost a nickel, to my first “crush,” Judy.

She didn’t reciprocate and I was crushed. First of multiple times to come that I was shot down. That picture of Cupid’s arrow piercing a heart, symbolizing rejection, had real meaning for me in 1952. But alas — a big, red heart — shaped sucker eased the pain of love’s loss; the sweet with the bitter.

For several years after high school, the day had little meaning for me as I was lost in a haze of hangovers and homework characterizing my college years and a few thereafter. Courting and marriage changed all of that. Both of them. And kids. Roses and chocolates for the former and candy hearts for the latter.

Probably spent thousands over the decades — joined by millions of my ilk. We’ve coughed up an estimated 3 billion bucks on posies and another billion on cards — yearly! Should have bought stock in Hallmark. Lord knows how much on the sweet stuff.

And you know what? For me, it was all worth it. Couldn’t put a price tag on the smiles on the faces of the wives and urchins. Just finished hiding Kay’s card and sweets. The girls will receive their flowers by Friday.

Miguel never heard about V-Day until he was 8. The festive occasion was never celebrated in his birthland of Venezuela. After his parents emigrated here, got jobs on a farm and restaurant and he was settled in, he was introduced in the third grade to the day commemorating romantic love, along with all the other special occasions.

Assimilation was not easy. A new environment (snow!), language and customs were difficult to cope with at first. With the help of his tutor, he slowly but surely learned English. A class with students taught to respect differences made things so much easier. And his exceptional skills on the soccer pitch made him the grade’s Lionel Messi.

His favorite holiday had always been Christmas — the multi-colored lights, celebration of Jesus’ birth and a gift or two-nothing like it. But coming to America had changed all that. Upon arrival, all the family had were the clothes on their backs and a few prized possessions (e.g. pictures). But thanks to the kindness of strangers and help from a few families who preceded them (just like my grandparents when they came from Slovenia to Little Falls in 1904), they began a life filled with hope, and because of that, happiness.

As for Christmas, a local humanitarian organization provided him and his sister with new coats, clothing and gifts of their choice. Their parents received gift cards. A special young man who understood the true meaning of the holiday provided the family with a Christmas tree.

Now, with Valentine’s Day nearing and in preparation, Miguel has not only made handmade cards for his mother and sister, but for the entire class. Given his exceptional artistic talent, they are something to behold. And with the money he saved from doing after-school work on the farm, he bought mom and sis boxes of their favorite candy.

Today, a few days before the big day, Miguel is in his bedroom, quietly sobbing. He will not be able to surprise his classmates. His gifts to his mother and sister will have far less meaning. St. Valentine’s Day is supposed to be a joyous occasion.

This year brings only great sadness. He hasn’t been to school for a few weeks now, and he and the family exist in a world of fear; fear of being hunted down and deported. Their American dream has become a nightmare.

Each night before he goes to sleep, he prays that the new president will change his mind. The last things he looks at before closing his eyes are his special Christmas gift, a soccer ball, and a card propped up on his dresser-heart-shaped and beautifully decorated and bearing the words “I love you, Mom” in Spanish and English.

Ray Lenarcic is a 1965 State University of New York at Fredonia graduate and is a resident of Herkimer.