I Don’t Get Why We Celebrate Groundhog Day.

I have a Masters’s Degree, climbed up the corporate ladder to vice president, and have kept two kids alive and well for almost 20 years, yet I can’t figure out Groundhog Day. I can’t wrap my brain around why we allow a little rodent-like creature to determine when to put away our snow boots.

It is Still a School Day

I am going to try to make some sense of this holiday. I apologize if I am offending anyone. Although, I can’t imagine who I would be offending. Groundhogs? The monopoly-men-looking dudes in top hats and tuxedos?

What are You Talking About Phil?

First of all, I never understand the outcome. It happens every year. Am I just a dope? When Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow, what does that mean? When the overzealous news announcers tell us Phil saw the shadow and we have six more weeks of winter, I still am in a fog. Yes, that is a shameless pun. Are six more weeks of winter a good or bad outcome? If I use my addled brain, I can figure out that six more weeks of winter will put us at approximately the second week of March. Which, according to the calendar, is just a few days short of the spring solstice. I don’t even know what the hell a solstice is, either, but that’s for another time. I gather this means spring will arrive, but slowly. Therefore, I deduced that six more weeks of winter is not early spring.

Huh?

An article in Wikipedia, facts based on nothing, clarified the answer but didn’t make much more sense. “If the groundhog sees its shadow due to clear weather, it will retreat to its den, and winter will persist for six more weeks; if it does not see its shadow because of cloudiness, spring will arrive early.” This still seems ridiculously topsy-turvey to me. Shouldn’t a sunny day mean spring is on its way? Oh well, at least I now know the technicalities of what the little forecasting rodent is reporting.

The Silliness Begins

Why and how did this nuttiness begin? No pun, it’s a groundhog, not a squirrel.

Revisionist History

Groundhog Day’s origin starts in Europe with a bunch of Christians lighting candles. Actually, a bunch of Christians took their candles to the church to get blessed. They would then bring the blessed candles home, hoping that the candles would bring blessings to their household for the winter. Efficient if you ask me. Not very practical for a Priest to be wandering around in the cold winter blessing houses. Somehow, because Jesus brings light to the world, his name got hooked into this festivity, and it became a holiday called Candlemas celebrated on February 2. Some of the dots are starting to connect.

The years went on, and somehow an English Folk song moved the holiday from a religious ceremony to a weather forecast.

If Candlemas be fair and bright,
Come, winter, have another flight;
If Candlemas brings clouds and rain,
Go winter, and come not again.

Catchy.

Enter Stage Left ~the Groundhog

How often can I say that no part of this holiday makes sense to me? There is no mention of a rodent in this folktale. It seems a little weak as far as holidays go, but it gets more convoluted. Along comes Germany and the introduction of a hedgehog. German lore has it that if this aforementioned hedgehog saw his shadow on Candlemas Day, there would be a second winter or six more weeks of bad weather. The Germans packed this lore in their lederhosen and brought it to Pennsylvania. In the United States, Jesus got overshadowed by a groundhog. My puns are horrific.

Back in Pennsylvania

So how did our friend Phil parlay his Accu-weather skills into world-famous notoriety? The first official Groundhog Day celebration occurred on February 2, 1887, in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Cynical me believes it was a tourist ploy. Punxsutawney, derived from Native American words meaning Town of Mosquitos, needed some positive press. Who is coming to a place honoring blood-sucking insects?

Bring in a newspaper editor who rounded up a group of businessmen and groundhog hunters, an odd combination, and convinced them to form the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club. Enter a group of Tuxedo-wearing men in tops hats called The Inner Circle, a place called Gobbler’s Knob, lots of booze, a 3 a.m. wake-up call, and here we are. A new holiday launches.

As crazy as it is that Phil is the most famous one, other towns in the USA have found their own weather-predicting rodents. There is Birmingham Bill, Staten Island Chuck, Buckeye Chuck, and Canadian Shubenacadie Sam, to name just a few. They are all second-rate hacks, in my opinion.

Stick With Your Day Job Phil

According to Stormfax Almanac, good old Phil is approximately 39% accurate in his predictions. I am far from a math genius, but with only two possible outcomes and a 50% chance of getting one of them, I would say he sucks. Although how seriously can you take a publication that calculates weather reports made by groundhogs?

Not So Serious You Say

I never considered that it might not really be so solemn of a day. My mother deluded me into thinking that Groundhog day was very important. How can something be lighthearted and official at the same time? She had a sincere interest in the report from the knob. As if the amount of time she spent in Florida would change if Phil said winter was ending soon. Even though I never understood, and not so sure I do now, whether the outcome meant winter was staying longer or ending quicker, I believed everyone took it seriously. It just seemed so pomp and circumstance-y. I am beginning to understand that even though reporters arrive in the wee hours of the morning and it makes the national news, heads of state are not rushing to their TV monitors. I can appreciate that for the town of Punxsutawney and the world at large, it’s a beautiful and happy diversion on a cold winter day.

It has been a year since I wrote this article. I now live in Florida and have to wonder if my fellow warm-climate inhabitants have their own tropical animal meteorologist.