RE: Groundhog's Day

Long, long, ago, in a time far past, when our revered ancestors spent the
hard, cold winter hunting varmints for the stewpot, there was a great
shortage of the thing we know today as "entertainment". Oh sure, there was
sock darning and knife sharpening but after that was done for the evening,
and Pappy Fred told about how cold it was when he was a kid for the three
thousandth time, the January nights could become cruelly tiresome. It turns
out you can only count the number of chinks in the cabin and read "The
Pilgrim's Progress" so many times before you start really actively looking
for something to do.

One February morning, Grammy Violet was out foraging for early spring
greens. She was motivated by the signs of nutritional related health
problems in her beloved family and by the fact Pappy Fred always started
telling "The Cold Story" twice a day by February and she just didn't think
she could take it one more time. Also her family was driving her nuts.

She was accompanied by her well-meaning but somewhat dim-witted son-in-law
and nephew, Billy Bob. He hadn't actually started out as dim-witted but
three months of knife sharpening every winter had had it's effect over the
years. As they kicked aside the drifts, looking for anything that remotely
resembled food that wasn't 'possum or squirrel, they came upon a woodchuck
just emerging from its hole.

"Shoot it, Billy Bob!" yelled Grammy Violet.

"You got it, Grammy!" retorted witty Billy Bob. But alas, the sunlight was
coming from behind the woodchuck, who was no smarter than Billy Bob but
considerably luckier. Startled by the dark outline before him, the woodchuck
retreated back into his burrow as quickly as he had appeared.

"Missed, Grammy."

"I see that Billy Bob." A wily look came to Grammy Violet's eye. "But I
reckon if you sit right here, still like, that woodchuck'll be back sure as
spring."

"OK Grammy." assented Billy Bob and he sat down to wait.

Six weeks later, Billy Bob returned, woodchuck in hand and a good feast was
had by all. "But you know, Grammy, I thought a couple of times that was a
mighty long time to wait for a woodchuck."

"Never you mind, boy," said Grammy. "Next year you can wait there again. One
of his offspring will be back and if he doesn't see his shadow this time,
why spring will be there on that day. You can tell by the way this one
acted."

"And if he does see his shadow and gets away?"

"We'll see you in March when it's bath time."

News of a good thing spread, and soon the younger generations across the
land found themselves rounded up and sent out of the cabin to wait for the
woodchuck to appear on this February morning, while Grammy's everywhere put
their feet up, made a nice cup of tea and listened to the silence. As the
year's passed, the requirement of not returning until spring had arrived was
slowly dropped, and Grammy's everywhere regret it to this day. And that's
how the tradition of Groundhog's Day started here in America. (I think.)

Cyndi Kirkpatrick
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