Day of Sant Jordi

Deep within Spain's autonomous region of Catalunya lies the charming town of Girona.  The cathedral rises from the skyline, projecting from within the old Roman walls.  Lazy waters of the river Onyar subtly flow past pastel painted houses through the center of town and below the Pont de les Peixateries Velles.  Every 23rd day of April, the Rambla de la Llibertat becomes a spectacle of vendors selling roses and books to lovers and non-lovers alike.  They come to celebrate the day of their patron, Sant Jordi.

Spain is one of the most festive-laden countries in the world, rumored to have a holiday in one of its towns on every day of the year.  While living there during the early 90's, I became acquainted with Holy Week, the Fallas of Valencia, Carnival, The Day of San Juan, Three Kings Day, and numerous other celebrations.  Each one brought an exhilarating satisfaction of being able to experience such an event on foreign soil.

Girona is the only place where I experienced the Day of Sant Jordi.  I can still remember the streets full of people and tables set up with displays of roses and books.  Everything seemed to be festooned with red and yellow, the traditional colors of Catalunya.  It is on this day that the men buy a rose for the ladies, and the ladies buy a book for the men.  The holiday is very much akin to Valentines Day, but with a twist.

El Dia de Sant Jordi, or sometimes called the Day of the Roses, has its roots in a legend that goes back hundreds of years.  Although versions may vary, it is said that long ago, a dragon was attacking the kingdom.  In order to appease, two lambs a day were offered to the ferocious beast.  When animals became scarce, it was decided to draw lots among the people, and to feed the hungry dragon one person a day.  When the lot fell upon the princess, she was taken to the entrance of the dragon's cave where she encountered a knight named Jordi (George).  The knight slew the dragon, thus saving the princess and the kingdom.  As blood issued from the dragon, it transformed into a delicate rose, which the gentleman gave to the princess.

Hence originates the tradition of men giving a rose to the ladies.  As for the custom of gifting books, that didn't begin until 1923, probably to commemorate Miguel de Cervantes and William Shakespeare, who both died on April 23, 1616.

This is a really old photo of the Rambla de la Llibertat on the Day of Sant Jordi, 1994.

As for me, one reason that I took a liking to the Day of Sant Jordi is that it falls on my birthday.  And although I didn't have a significant other during my stay in Girona of 1994, I decided then and there that I would bring the tradition home with me to the States, and buy a rose for my future wife on that day.

I have lived up to my commitment.  For the last 21 years—on my birthday—I have bought a rose for my wonderful wife, Jenelle.  Several years ago I decided to expand the custom to include my four daughters.  I enjoy including them because, being kids, they don't receive flowers too often.   There is a glow of appreciation on their faces.  I think they look forward to it every year.

Now it is again that time of year to gift a rose to those I love.  Jenelle isn't home yet, so I leave hers on the pillow.  My two youngest are excited to see their roses, and Jenna, with a big smile on her face says, "Thank you, Dad!"  Savanah runs up and gives me a big hug.  Kaitlyn is in the shower, so I quietly set hers on her bed.

Brittany's rose is always the toughest one to deliver.  I get back in my truck, make the drive through our hometown, past kids playing in the park and green fields of alfalfa.  Having arrived at my destination, I carry the red rose across the grass and past the other memorials.  Gently, I tuck it behind a pot of flowers and next to a plastic angel that sits at the base of her headstone. ♠