Holidays

Leap Day

Leave a Comment

Today is Leap Day – February 29th, the rarest of days.

Leap Day occurs once every four years. It’s a temporal recalibration of sorts that dates back to the first century B.C. Without the invention of Leap Day, today would be July 12, 2017.

Did you know that leap years occur every four years, but a year that is divisible by 100, but not by 400, is not a leap year? In this way, the year 2000 was a leap year, and so was 1600. But 1700, 1800 and 1900 were not leap years. Leap Day is inherently odd.

In addition to being a terrible day on which to be born, Leap Day tradition in Ireland says women can propose to men on this day. Some speculate that salaried employees may work for free on Leap Day.

Leap Day is an strange and scarce occasion. It’s an opportunity to celebrate and enjoy an extra day in our year. It’s a holiday that comes around only every four years, and as such, it should be observed with extra reverence and ample care.

This year, I’m excited to commemorate Leap Day in the spirit of Leap Day William.

Leap Day William

Leap Day William

In episode 9 of the sixth season of the NBC show 30 Rock, the world was introduced to the wonderful lore and traditions of Leap Day William. I highly recommend watching the episode. It’s on Netflix and if I’m being honest, I’ll judge you pretty hard if you don’t.

By way of synopsis:

Leap Day William is an old, bald man with a handlebar moustache who wears a blue suit, top hat, and a yellow shirt. Tradition says that Leap Day William lives in the Marianna Trench. He emerges every four years to trade children’s tears for candy.

In his honor, every Leap Day people dress in yellow and blue. They eat rhubarb, give candy to crying children, and poke the eyes and pull the hair of those who don’t don the traditional Leap Day colors.

“Poke your eyes, pull your hair, you forgot what clothes to wear,” is the tradditional way to mock the Leap Day unobservant.

Like any holiday worth it’s salt, the lore and tradition of the day is secondary to the meaning and true spirit of it’s celebration.

Leap Day is about getting a magical extra day. It’s day to do the things you ordinarily wouldn’t do. It’s a day to take chances. Nothing is impossible on Leap Day and nothing that happens on Leap Day counts. Real life is for March.

The true meaning of Leap Day is about love and friendship and taking chances. Today is a magical day full of miracles. Just look for them and believe. You’ll see that they are all around.

My Leap Day outfit

My Leap Day outfit

Leap Day is a holiday that should be celebrated.  

The world is a cruel and ridiculous place – wars, refugees and terrorists, rapidly spreading viruses, political campaigns that have become a circus, and rampant and institutionalized hate. Most of us don’t have to look beyond our close circle of family and friends to name deep loss, sickness and hurt. Life is harsh and sad a lot of the time. If we don’t make a concerted effort to see and live beyond the raw and complex things of this world, we’ll be swallowed up by them – rendered fearful, angry and calloused.

Living fully, honestly and well requires that we acknowledge the bad, the hard and the messy – yes. But it also demands that we notice and celebrate the good. Life is a confusing bitch, but it is also beautiful and abundant. We must – if we are to get through life with any scrap of sanity – capitalize upon every opportunity to celebrate it’s happy, life-giving and wonderfully absurd things.  We need reasons to celebrate. We need reasons to get together with friends and family, to have a drink and wear silly clothes. We need Leap Day William.

“The spirit of Leap Day William exists inside of all of us.” – Leap Day William

I think that the spirit of Leap Day William is humor and ridiculousness.  It’s about love and friendship and celebrating good things.

So go out today and take a Leap Day chance. Spread the holiday cheer. Notice the good and acknowledge the absurd. And as Leap Day William always says, live every day as if it’s Leap Day and every Leap Day as if it’s your last.

Merry Leap Day!

Ode to the Valentine’s Day candy heart

Leave a Comment

Candy Hearts

I like candy. My affection for it is quite enormous. My capacity for consuming candy is – as far as I know – limitless.

When I say that I like candy, I mean that I absolutely adore the most sweet, sugary, artificially-colored stuff. I can pass up chocolaty or a baked confections without a second thought. But sugar in its most-processed form?  Yes, please. All the candy.

I like to think of myself as the Lamar Odom of the running world.

My year is roughly broken down into four candy seasons: Valentine’s candy hearts, jelly beans, fla-vor-ice*, and candy corn.

*technically not a candy, but it’s sugar, so it counts.

Today I’m going to talk about the first season in my candy year: Valentine’s candy hearts.

Bag of hearts

Also know as the conversation heart, this traditional Valentine’s Day sweet started in 1847 with Oliver Chase, a pharmacist and founder of the Boston-based Necco Candy Company. These candies’ concise, imprinted messages that verge on sexual harassment have been the vehicle of romance for generations. Their simple, classic design and sugar-laden goodness have firmly established conversation hearts’ spot in the candy hall of fame.

Ok, I kind of made that last part up. There really is a Candy Hall of Fame. But they induct people, not candy – which is stupid. Candy deserves all the credit.

Chalky Hearts

My earliest Valentine’s candy heart memory is from elementary school. In second grade I spent hours carefully selecting individual conversation hearts with specific messages to appropriately accompany each of my classmates’ Valentine’s Day cards. Seven-year-old Lisa would have never forgiven herself for the lost opportunity if her secret crush opened his Lion King Valentine to discover a conversation heart that read “Best Friend” instead of “Love You.” The message matters. He would have noticed.  Mind the hearts.

Box of hearts

Given my vast and perpetual research in the area of sugar-based goods, I can decisively say that the best Valentine’s candy hearts are the Brach’s brand “Tiny Conversation Hearts.”

Although we owe them much for the conception of this iconic confection, the original Necco brand “Sweethearts” are extremely hard and oddly-flavored. The standard “Sweethearts” package contains cherry, banana, wintergreen, lemon, orange and grape flavors. Who combines fruit and mint flavors?! Ick.

Brach’s also makes “Large Conversation Hearts,” but for some inexplicable reason their “Tiny Conversation Hearts” are far superior. The “Tiny” version is softer, milder in flavor and in my opinion, preferable in form.

Candy Aisle

Although many alternative and new versions of the Valentine’s Day candy heart have emerged over the years – sour hearts, sweet tart hearts, gummy hearts, etc. – nothing will surpass the classic, original flavor.

While at Target conducting research for this post I discovered and purchased something called “conversation heart jelly beans.” [The abomination that is the candy industry’s recent trend of conflating seasonal candies will be discussed another day.] Unsurprisingly, the “conversation heart jelly beans” did neither the conversation heart nor the jelly bean part well. Don’t waste your candy budget on them.

Valentine's Day Candy Hearts

Valentine’s Day candy hearts are fun and sassy and nostalgic and cheap. They can be eaten discretely in any situation.

On the coldest and most unwelcoming winter days, I stash a handful of candy hearts in the pocket of my running jacket and reward myself with a small rush of sugar each mile.

They can be chewed quickly or left to slowly dissolve on your tongue.

Conversation hearts can and should be eaten year-round.

Are they good for you?

No.

Are they delicious?

Yes.

Diabetes is a small price to pay for happiness.*

*jk. 

If you reject conversation hearts, you reject love and all that Valentine’s Day stands for.

Valentine's Day candy

The opinions expressed in this post are my own. I was not paid for any of the content above. I believe in objective candy journalism.