I'm sentimental about many things: the lumpy feel of a baby's

"I'm sentimental about many things: the lumpy feel of a baby's unused feet, the metallic smell of the air before the first snow, the last scene in 'It's a Wonderful Life.' But Valentine's Day leaves me cold." These words, spoken by Nancy Gibbs, reveal a deeper truth about the nature of sentimentality and how it is shaped by the genuine, lived experiences of the heart, rather than by socially constructed traditions or commercial celebrations. Gibbs reflects on the things she holds dear, not because they are celebrated by the world or celebrated in grand gestures, but because they are personal, deeply felt, and connected to moments of profound emotional resonance.

In the ancient world, sentimentality was not something often spoken of in the ways we understand it today, but the Greeks were no strangers to the expression of profound emotion and reflection on the fleeting moments of life. In Homer’s Iliad, the tragic emotions of warriors, who are about to lose their lives on the battlefield, are depicted with a deep sensitivity to the human condition—the way in which life, so rich and vivid, can be suddenly swept away by the force of fate. These heroes, while caught in the throes of war, are often overwhelmed by the simple, yet profound things they regret losing: the warmth of their families, the beauty of a world that will no longer be theirs. For the Greeks, these were the moments that transcended the spectacle of war, grounding their deep humanity in what was simple and authentic.

The emotions Gibbs speaks of—the unused feet of a baby, the metallic smell of the air before snow, and the final, tear-jerking scene in It's a Wonderful Life—all carry that same timeless truth: they are not fleeting because of the celebrations they’re attached to, but because they resonate deeply within the soul. These are moments of pure connection to life, where emotions are felt not through external celebrations, but through the intimacy of personal experience. When Gibbs says that Valentine’s Day leaves her cold, she is calling attention to the disconnection that can come with mass commercialization and the way holidays can often overshadow the deeper emotions that are meant to be celebrated in the quiet spaces of the heart.

In the Roman Empire, we see a similar reflection on the value of authenticity over spectacle. The Roman holiday of Lupercalia, which later evolved into what we now call Valentine’s Day, was filled with rituals that emphasized fertility, love, and connection, but they were ritualistic in nature—performances that had little to do with the deep, personal affection that Gibbs evokes in her memories. Lupercalia was not about the quiet moments of intimacy or reflection, but about societal performance, much like how Valentine’s Day has transformed into a public display of affection rather than a day grounded in the true nature of love and connection.

Gibbs's statement invites us to question the meaning of love in the context of modern celebrations. When we reduce love to a single day or moment of performance, we risk losing the depth of emotion that love is truly about. Just as Homer’s heroes mourned the loss of the ordinary, the small things that made their lives worth living, Gibbs reminds us that true sentimentality is tied to the simple, everyday experiences that are personal and meaningful. The air before the first snow, the feel of a baby's feet—these are the intimate and unseen moments that form the backbone of true affection, not the grand gestures or social pressure that surround Valentine’s Day.

The lesson here is clear: love and sentimentality are best celebrated in the quiet, the personal, and the authentic moments, not in the external performance of what society dictates. Valentine’s Day, in its modern form, has become a day often marked by expectations and superficial displays, overshadowing the deeper truths that love embodies. Just as Gibbs reflects on the moments that truly move her, so too must we return to authentic expressions of love that are not dictated by external celebration, but rooted in genuine connection.

In your own life, take time to reflect on the moments that truly matter—those that are personal and unspoken, the simple exchanges that build deeper bonds. Celebrate love not with expectations, but with authenticity and care. Let Valentine’s Day remind us of the joy of expressing love not through grand gestures, but through the quiet moments that connect us. In this way, we can reclaim the true sentimentality that Gibbs speaks of, allowing love to flourish in the places where it truly lives, not in the spectacle, but in the stillness and honesty of everyday life.