(Author’s Note: neither handsome quarterbacks nor their fans were harmed in the creation of this post)
It’s time for the question I’ve asked myself about this time of year for 38 of the past 46 years (lived in D.C. and Maryland, 1989-1996): “Why the f*** have I chosen to live in this cold, bleak wasteland?”
[Speaking of the Wasteland, T.S. Eliot was wrong — “April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.” Nope, February is. Every four years it sucks 1/28th more.]
But in my effort to sound wicked smaht, I have to share something about which I feel, well, less wicked smaht:
Tomorrow is Groundhog’s Day. And now I’m going to face up to my fears and vulnerabilities and admit something:
I don’t see a huge difference in the two potential outcomes based on Phil’s emergence from his groundhog hole.
According to my good friend Wikipedia:
According to the tradition, if Phil sees his shadow and returns to his hole, he has predicted six more weeks of winter-like weather. If Phil does not see his shadow, he has predicted an “early spring.”
Six weeks from tomorrow would be March 16, which makes me wonder:
- Wouldn’t we in the northeast actually celebrate the end of winter weather on March 16, what with the April Fool’s Day Blizzard of 1997 and the June “Year Without a Summer” in 1816 in which it snowed on June 6 and 7 (OK, I had to look that last one up)?
- In the hellscape-on-earth that was Winter 2015, Boston’s municipal snow pile didn’t melt until JULY.
3. Is the concept of “an early spring” simply the Punxsutawney Chamber of Commerce, as Phil’s mouthpiece, hedging its bets?