Without fail, every year, my mom sends me and my roommates little gifts for Valentine’s Day. This year, I received the traditional conversation hearts as well as a pack of Altoids (my unhealthy obsession—I seriously have to have friends monitor me so that I don’t overdose on these little mints).

Anyway, today, I received a text from my mom making sure that I’d actually received the gifts. Side note: I’m terrible at following up on things. I know that I should always send a quick thank you text letting people know I’ve actually received their letter, gift, etc. but I always seem to forget. New Year’s resolution. Actually, acknowledge acts of kindness…  

But back to the story.

So, tonight, I got a text from my mom making sure that I’d received the Valentine’s Day package. I responded immediately (of course feeling guilty that I’d not done so sooner) and let her know that I was really excited about the addition of Altoids this year because I love them.

In response, she sent:

“Oh, good. I didn’t know that, but I know that you and your brother don’t really like the conversation hearts. BUT I heard on the radio that they are no longer going to make them, so I had to get them because I was lucky to find them and would never be able to get them again.”

First of all, she was right. I do not enjoy eating those chalky little hearts. I don’t know anyone who does.

But something in my own heart sank when reading this text. The company that makes conversation hearts has shut down.

My brain can’t even fathom that. They’ve been around for ages. Since 1901, actually. And now—it’s just done.

Thinking about the once booming Necco (the company behind these traditional treats) factories—where today was probably the biggest day of their year up until today—made me completely depressed. Ironically enough, I’ve never before in my life needed one of those little happy messages of “Best Day” “Kiss Me” “Be Mine” as much as I did thinking about the company shutting down.

I don’t know. Maybe I’ve just watched too many Hallmark Channel Original Movies. But I’m suddenly filled with a desire to fly to Boston and march over the Necco factory and stand in front of a  forlorn crowd of workers and declare that we can fix this. We can save Necco and save those little chalky hearts!

All we need is a stronger marketing plan. Social media, guys. Social media! What about influencers? What about getting Michael Sera to promote them with his “Maybe Tonight” hearts from Arrested Development? We’ve got ideas, people!!

Then, after a bake sale and a billboard or something (and after I hook up with the at-first-arrogant-yet-totally-hunky nephew of the former CEO), Necco would be back on its feet and once again, I could be disappointed that I had received a box of hearts that I didn’t want to eat.

But, really… It’s natural that I feel sad about this, right? Natural that I feel like something is slipping away with the loss of these traditional candies. My youth? My childhood? The solidarity with others who also have—and should in the future—receive these little candies as the obligatory Valentine’s Day gift from your classmates in middle school? Sad that now kids will get candies that they actually want to eat? Sad that kids probably don’t even hand out obligatory candy anymore. Wait. Do they just send a paperless post to all their classmates??

What does this mean for our future?

I’m not sure there’s an answer to this question. Maybe I’m just overreacting due to some projects I didn’t get to move forward with at my own job. Maybe I just don’t like change. Am I conservative now?? Maybe I’ll put on another Hallmark Channel Original Movie and watch small town miracles happen regularly like the true middle-aged woman I know I am. #Sharon.

Anyway, Happy Valentine’s Day. If you can find conversation hearts, I’d love to know if you’re going to buy them or not.