“What’s your name?’
“Punxsutawney Phil.”
“Where did you get a name like that?
“It’s from where I’m forced to live in Pennsylvania.”
“Why’d they name you after a town?”
“Guess it was better than Candlemas Phil.”
“‘Candlemas’?”
“Candlemas is February 2nd. That’s the day I usually check outside the burrow to see what the weather is like. Candlemas is the day the baby Jesus was presented in the temple. That’s that day I present myself to the world after a long winter’s sleep.”
“Sleep?”
“I’m a groundhog. When the weather cools in fall, I hibernate for the winter to stay warm. You know, a nice den under the ground with warm leaves and twigs and bits of grass. Quite comfortable.”
“Why ‘ground-hog’? I get the ‘ground’ piece, but why ‘hog’? You don’t look like a piggie.”
“I’m not. No porcine in my family tree. I’m actually a ground squirrel, but, well, I like to eat, carry a few extra pounds, you know, to last the winter. I guess I am a little chubby.”
“So, you got stuck with ‘groundhog’ because of your waistline?”
“That’s part of it.”
“There’s more?”
“When I’d present myself on Candlemas Day to decide if it’s warm enough for an early exit and romp in the yard, the kids would scream to their parents: “Groundhog! Groundhog! It’s Groundhog’s Day, Mummy? Is the weather warm enough to play outside, Daddy? Please! Please!” That’s how the whole Groundhog’s Day started.”
“You mean you became a celebrity?”
“Yep, a captive celebrity. I was declared a prognosticator of the advent of spring, a predictor of warmer times. For that talent, I was netted, imprisoned and incarcerated in a fake den in Pennsylvania to spend the cold days in dark isolation, pulled out on February 2nd and forced to look for my shadow.”
“Why your shadow?”
“No idea. My captives made it up. No shadow, spring will come early. Shadow, six more week of winter. Complete nonsense. I know if it’s warm enough outside by the temperature. Who do they think I am?”
“Why the ‘Phil’ part of your name?”
“No idea on that either. I was trying to get it legally changed and then that Bill Murray guy happened.”
“The actor?”
“Yeah. He played Phil Connors in that movie ‘Groundhog’s Day.’ I think it was 1993. The winters run together. Anyway, this Phil Connors meteorologist jerk predicts the weather wrong and gets presented with an endless series of wake-ups in Punxsutawney on the same Groundhog’s Day until he starts treating people, the weather and me right. Talk about a lesson. Phil got it right and got treated better. Why don’t they treat me better? It’s not right the way they treat me. Plus, after that movie, I’m stuck with the ‘Phil’ name forever. Everyone loved Phil by the end of the show? It’s just not fair.”
“So what did you predict this year?”
“Oh yeah, I’ll tell you the ‘Secret.’ My captors don’t even look at my shadow. They make me whisper in the Chief Warden’s ear whether there will be an early spring. If I don’t do it, they’ll turn on the movie with Bill Phil Murray for 24 hours a day every day in my burrow. I mean that movie will drive you nuts.”
“So, early spring or not this year?”
“’Okay, campers, rise and shine, and don’t forget your booties ’cause it’s cooooold out there today.’ I couldn’t resist a quote from the movie. And, here’s my favorite for old Bill Phil himself, a prediction for the rest of his life, I wish: ‘You want a prediction about the weather, you’re asking the wrong Phil. I’ll give you a winter prediction: It’s gonna be cold, it’s gonna be grey, and it’s gonna last you for the rest of your life.’ There, take that, old Bill Phil Murray, you. And next time, let me jump out of the pickup before you drive it and you over the cliff.”
“You seem upset. Maybe you should take a nice quiet rest for another six weeks or so.”
“You’re probably right. I do feel a bit tired.”
“See you in the spring.”
“Say, what’s your name?”
“Rabbit, Peter Rabbit.”
“That the Easter thing?”
“Right.”
“What day is that?”
“That’s a long story. Maybe we can talk after you wake up.”
See you in the spring, I hope.
Grandpa Jim