all the glamour has gone out of groundhog day

when i was young(er), getting up before the sun to get your place in front of the TV on february 2nd was nearly as exciting as getting up before the sun to rip into your christmas presents. we spent most of the week prior to the 2nd learning about which months coincided with which seasons, watching national geographic specials about rodents, and being quizzed on pennsylvania geography. most of us never really internalized the lesson about the seasons because we didn't understand autumn, nor did we realize that spring was supposedly longer than just the month of may. we colored pictures that cast an ominous brown pall on the hallways. there were some spots of yellow, as some kids were more optimistic than others.

by the time we reached high school, the decorations were gone and only a few people still reset their alarms that morning. but pretty much the first thing everyone said as they crossed the threshold into the lobby or stepped on the bus was, “did anybody see?” and someone always had. by the last stop, everyone on board answered in unison.

news of a shadow was followed by a smug nod. it was expected. status quo. convo over. time for homeroom. the principal announced Phil’s decision before the moment of silence and the pledge to the flag. most teachers gave consideration to the day in their lesson plans, letting students have the time to discuss the implications of even more winter. by the time we got home, Phil’s picture was all over the news, which we watched as the sky darkened from grey to black at 6 ... and remained black at 11.

college days meant the return to elementary anticipation. dorms and apartments were decorated with spotlights, stuffed groundhogs, and piles of [out of the ordinary] dirt. mascots that you didn’t realize were affiliated with the school appeared, and there was drinking. lots of drinking. sure, there’s always drinking in college (i don’t think i gave anything away there), but on what other eve can you watch bill murray movies and get trashed because of words like “shadow” and “weeks.” if you're michael, that's normal, but for the rest of us, it wouldn’t mean as much.

the die hard groundhog day fans skipped all of their classes in the first week of february to go to punxsutawney and experience the event up close. for many pennsylvanians this excursion is the equivalent of a that of a trout upstream.

last year on groundhog day i was … well, at work and didn’t even think about it until the 4th. you’d think that after 22 straight years of firsthand lore, i would have at least remembered. not so.

if nothing else, five southern winters have taught me one thing: no one here gives a damn about groundhog day. you’re lucky to find someone who knows what a groundhog even is and they scrunch their eyebrows at you if you say “punxsutawney.” winter is barely six weeks long to begin with, and the mere threat of six more weeks of it would undoubtedly close schools, empty grocery stores, and fill hospitals.

the news does a lot of “how to beat cabin fever” reports, most often in december and january when it’s been overcast for three, maybe four, days in a row. but they’ve never experienced a solid three months of grey skies and snow plows … when it’s dusk all day.

of course northerners are disappointed when Phil predicts six more weeks of winter year after year after year after year. but he never delivers bad news. he either proclaims an early spring, or guarantees an end to winter.

only six more weeks. thank god.