George Stahl

There is a hole in the frozen ground midway in Pennsylvania that the entire country will be watching on Feb. 2.

A large crowd of people from all over the nation will be standing over it, anxiously waiting for its inhabitant to emerge. While they wait, the crowd looks to the air. Recently that part of the country has been experiencing several days in a row where the sun is nowhere in sight and if it stays that way, it could be a good thing.

This all started a long time ago, far away on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. In a remote village in Germany, a similar crowd gathered around a similar hole in the cold, hard dirt. Yes, it is the decedents of those early Germans that have long carried on their tradition thousands of miles, and hundreds of years away.

In both times, the crowd grows quiet as the dirt around the rim of the hole starts to move. First, the dirt caves into the opening, then frantically flings out into the air and runs off to the sides. A small, furry head begins to come out cautiously, soon a forehead, then two beady little brown eyes blinking the dirt from their lashes comes up. Once the creature is sure he is safe, his arms come up, and using them to pull himself out, the whole top half of the badger (in Germany) or ground hog (in Pennsylvania), is outside of his home. Shaking the dirt from his body, he turns a quarter turn and looks down at the ground.

“Er sah seinen Schatten! Der Winter wird mehr!” the Germans shout in disappointment. “He’s seen his shadow! Winter will be another six weeks!” the crowd in Pennsylvania yells, imagining more freeze for their crops. In a swift swoop, this harbinger of doom is back in the safety of his burrow where he will stay for the next six weeks, sinking back into hibernation.

From 1887 to now, without fail, every Feb. 2 the length of the winter season has been predicted by a furry creature called Punxsutawney Phil. The legend says that if the day is sunny and Phil sees his shadow, there will be six more weeks of winter weather. If the day is overcast and gloomy he will not see his shadow and the winter will be cut short.

For the record, Phil has only been correct 28 percent of the time. Nonetheless, his small contribution to the world of meteorology is a widely respected part of American history.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I really hope that over grown rat doesn’t see his shadow this year.

I can’t quit put my finger on it, but I am ready for winter to be out of here! Have you noticed that in these last few freezing days and nights every old broken bone, bruised rib, twisted ankle, bang on the head, sprained back, and every arthritic joint has manifested themselves, and not one at a time, either, like when they originally happened. They all came on at the same time! Man that hurts.

At 51 years old, I feel like I’m twice that when the weather turns like it has. You know, that’s not good. How not cool is it to pick up your coffee cup or hot chocolate or adult beverage with a hand that you swear creaks and cracks as you grip the handle. Don’t dare sit in a chair in the same position for more than 20 minutes or your back, knees, hips and shoulders turn to stone. You have to get up, but prolong it. “Ah man this is going to hurt.” you tell yourself as you look around the room and grip the arms of your chair in dread.

True, we don’t have it as bad as states that are virtually snowbound, but we don’t live in those states and it’s all relative, right? We don’t even have it as bad as those of you can remember the worst January - February in the valley. In 1950, it was only 11 degrees on Jan. 5. I‘d have to wrap myself in an electric blanket and sit in front of the fireplace with the heater on.

No offense to you snow bunnies, but bring on the spring and summer. Come on Punxsutawney Phil. Squint, close one eye, do whatever you have to do. I’ll send you a lifetime supply of nuts or whatever it is you rodents eat……. no shadow this year, please.

George Stahl can be reached via email at stahl_george@yahoo.com