Some things here under Heaven
Are just cooler ‘n’ Hell ~ Ray Wylie Hubbard
As some know, I find fun and excitement in celebrating Groundhog Day. This year was no different as I found myself giddy as a gopher on a golf course as the big bucktoothed day lumbered near. I felt the pull of 4-GH wake me up and out of the deep hole of my winter doldrums. Because I desired to do the same for others, my mailing list grew fatter and hairier, as it gained ground. I have a dream; that my most cherished Groundhog Day wish might even come true!
If my wish doesn’t come true this year, it’s okay, because every fan knows – there’s always next year.
I’ve rooted through grainy thoughts for this essay, chewing on it, typing, editing, and re-writing, grinding it out, wanting to capitalize on the moment. I only want the message to cause the same reaction as the cards – just a smile. It’s not always easy, my mind is a turbulent stream of consciousness that even the biggest beavers fear to damn.
I know the answer to the biggest question is 42, but the question I’m sinking my teeth into this year is: Can one carve a meaningful message from a fun and frivolous annual rodent-based holiday observance? If so, can one keep it going?
I’m going whole hog.
“Operation Groundhog Day cards” continues to grow hair at the Pate household. This year, excitement started early, when only month after 3-GH faded into the shadows, I saw the perfect forever stamp released by the United States Post Office. Hammered on hope, I squirreled away a good stockpile of Bettys. My artist in residence, project managing aide de camp, the lovely Vicki, was on her game early, designing and crafting our cards. Damn, she was busy as a… well you know.
This year, I received double the number of “add me to the list” requests! Two didn’t seem like enough, so I unilaterally added recipients to my mental mailing list all year long. I am not making this up. Throughout the year, when I had interactions with people, some new friends, some old friends, and some I’ve never even met in person, I thought:
“They’re going on the Groundhog Day card list.”
In this author’s opinion, not being on the list, isn’t a scarlet G of shame. Anyone that merely notices it’s Groundhog Day is like a sharp-eyed squirrel gathering nuts. You are preparing for the season ahead. If you’re so inspired, adding yourself to the list is as easy as letting me know. Be forewarned, unlike email, I do not have an unsubscribe link.
I’ve adopted Groundhog Day as my kick-off to the new season where I can dig myself out of a hole, and create a cunning fox-like plan. Even in a worst case Groundhog Day scenario, where he sees his shadow, there will only be six weeks more weeks of winter! It’s time to rise from the ashes like a furry farmer’s field phoenix! Though not widely known, Punxsutawney Phil gets paid next to nothing for his prognosticating prowess, he freely casts his shadow.
Likewise, there is no quid pro quo for my writing. The reason behind my eccentric celebration of Groundhog Day is singular in purpose; to make someone smile, and shake their head in a good way. It’s been a long, cold, and dark winter and now it’s time to forage for fun.
This gave me paws to look back at the year, my successes and failures, what I did well, and where I can improve. I want to chuck out the old, and whistle in the new. I look back both personally and professionally and take stock of where I’m at. For one example: Out of the gate, my writing showed promise, faded on the backstretch (which sucked), then finished strong on the homestretch with a meaningful writing piece that won at the wire. Nothing motivates me more than celebrating a win.
You should celebrate yours.
You’d be sane to question my sanity and ask: “Shep, Why not just do your year in review and goals on New Year’slike everyone else?”
Because I’m a complex animal, more like a platypus.
I’ve come to realize I can’t do it at that time because I have a sloth-like six-week hangover. From mid-November through New Year’s day, I’ve driven so much, visited so many, ate too much, drank too much, and stayed up too late.
I’m tired, fat, bloated, and full of cheese.
That’s no time to ferret out my best strategy and badger myself to action. Coincidentally, I’ve just finished my fifth (ha) “dry January”, which was like shooting fish in a barrel. I’m rested and ready to face the challenges. I know everything won’t be perfect again this year. For instance, time and travel once again, conspired against that coveted Punxsutawney postmark and my back-up plan to go to Hell fell through as well, but I adapted and found a cool place to mail them from.
Happy Groundhog day, my friends! Don’t let your shadow cast you.
If you’re a new reader, unaccustomed with my dogged dedication to GroundHog Day, you can find a brief history hibernating here:
It’s Groundhog Day all over again… – A Trying Shepherd .
Some may want just to reread and relive that banger in honor of Phil Connors, which is a great homage to our hirsute cohort.
To the readers of my random ramble blog essays, I appreciate you.