When I was in elementary school, everybody in a class exchanged Valentine’s Day cards at school. Is it still that way? We each decorated a shoebox with our name on it. We cut a slit in the top for others to drop cards through. The displays were up for several days — and everybody was required to give a card to everybody else.
When I was in the fifth grade, I had a crush on a beautiful blue-eyed blonde girl named Wendy. She was my ideal girl when I was about 11 years old. I was terrified of anybody realizing this, though, because then she might know — and that seemed scary. I guess it was “puppy love” rejection I feared.
Since classes routinely gave cards to everyone, there were large packs of small, cheap cards that stores sold. I bought a pack of those generic cards — but I also bought one very special card, much nicer than the others, just for Wendy.
Surely, I thought, nobody will notice. Nobody will figure it out. My secret would be safe.
But little girls who compared the cards they received in our class did notice. And they talked among themselves. Before I knew it, everybody was whispering that I “liked Wendy.”

The Alien Observer: Minneapolis riots might be preview of future
Life choices: What’s important enough to spend your life doing?
Both sides of gun debate see what they want to see in D.C. shooting
Can’t we all get along? Why is the liberty movement so fragmented?
Maybe it’s so hard to love others because we don’t love ourselves
As we encounter emotional truth, poisonous past can make us numb
Words of appreciation can have power to connect us and heal us
In the great new culture war over Thanksgiving shopping, I’m neutral
We can’t really change people, even if they offer us the control