It’s Groundhog Day! And in my head, I can hear Phil Hartman, the egotistical Pittsburgh weatherman cursed to relive Groundhog Day, over and over, until he becomes a better person, say: ”Well, its Groundhog Day . . . again.” Come to think of it, I’m hoping that I can find Groundhog Day, one of my favorite films, somewhere on TV tonight so I can watch it again. I’ve probably watched the movie almost as many times as Phil Hartman, so perfectly played by Bill Murray, reexperienced Groundhog Day in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania.
But I digress. The point I was going to make is that Groundhog Day creates a bit of division in our country. Across the northern part of the nation, when February 2 rolls around people have been exposed to seemingly endless weeks of cold, wet, sloppy, gloomy, soul-crushing winter weather. They care about whether Punxsutawney Phil emerges from his tree stump on Gobbler’s Knob to see his shadow because they desperately hope that he won’t see his shadow–thereby predicting an early spring.
In the southwestern desert areas, however, there’s really not much attention paid to Groundhog Day. There aren’t any groundhogs out here, for one thing, and in any case it’s typically sunny, and there’s not the prolonged exposure to crummy, dispiriting winter weather that makes otherwise rational people even consider the notion that a furry rodent might be able to accurately predict when spring will arrive. You could draw a line across the southern part of the country, sweeping in south Florida, the desert southwest and southern California, and call it the Groundhog Divide.
For the record, this year Punxsutawney Phil did not see his shadow, so you can bank on an early spring. Be mindful, though, that this beloved rodent doesn’t exactly have a stellar prediction track record.