Waiting with anticipation
It will soon be daylight. My ephemersis (actually a nifty javascript that I found on a Russian site some years ago, but the word is cool) tells me that the sun will rise while I’m on the bus, so my ability to judge if i am casting a shadow will be somewhat diminished. The spirit will be there, and that’s all that counts.
I’ve been working for most of my life, quietly, (hell, politely; Canadianly) to see that we add one more date to our list of national holidays. One not based on creed, or racial history, or the time that the tide will rise through the bore. One that celebrates the possible end of that long cold spell we use to identify ourselves; winterbound. Global warming tendencies aside, the need to feel we have reached a point of no return in this frozen period is crying out for parliamentary redress.
We want GROUNDHOG DAY to mean something more than a search for Wiarton on Google Earth. To all legislators; use a private member’s bill, or closure or prorogation of the assembly. Stand up and shout. Get us the holiday. I’ll learn to whistle like a woodchuck. I’ll pledge allegiance to the only mammal I ever tried to shoot with my fathers .22 rifle (I missed).
If ever a day needed a purpose, the second day of February is it. We don’t have Saint Blaise and his crossed candles around any more, so let’s use the day for something important. Celebrate the fact that winter may end (in either six weeks or forty-two days) before Mardi Gras distracts us again. I’m waiting with anticipation for the declaration: National Groundhog Day. It has such a nice ring to it, don’t you find?
