Right about now, Winter is surely stockpiling his wildest weather, ready to let loose just as I’m about to order some new spring shoes.
February and March have always had this nasty habit of dumping snow on us, and pelting us with rain and hail and blow-the-siding-off winds.
That’s why silly, mid-winter events like Groundhog Day were invented – to give people a little entertainment and some hope to break up the longest, dreariest days of the year.
You don’t see silly rituals played with animals after spring arrives, now, do you?
(Oh yes, there is that “chick and bunny” business.)
Groundhog Day is situated at the mid-point between the winter solstice (shortest day) and the spring equinox (equal day and night), so it’s all about “hanging in” until the sun gets its strength back.
Some say they don’t mind winter, but for many of us, we have to make an effort to stay upbeat when sunlight is scarce.
Last week I wrote about a recognized condition called seasonal affective disorder (SAD), a form of depression caused by light deprivation.
It’s a smart move to plan events in February to ward off the blues.
Valentine’s Day is another one. What better way to counter chills than with the warmth of romance? A little candlelight, a radiant fire, some chocolate fondue to dip strawberries in…
That’ll warm you.
Sea Isle City dreamed up one of the more extreme remedies for the February doldrums with its Polar Bear Plunge. On Feb. 18, for the 12th year, thousands of hearty individuals will don ridiculous outfits and run into the surf. (Imagine trying to explain this to someone from, say, Iowa.)
The warmth, I understand, comes partly from layering heavy-duty, wool and fur immediately after the plunge, and partly from the medicinal libations administered before, during, and after.
Let it be known that Wildwood Crest has its own plungers, who take to the waves in March. This year it’s the fifth annual Polar Plunge for Andrew on Saturday, March 5, at noon.
The event is named for Andrew Alameno, a Wildwood Catholic High School grad who was lost in the World Trade Center attack.
There’s a fee to enter which goes into a scholarship fund established in Andrew’s name at WCHS.
Those hearty enough to run into the water at the Jefferson Avenue beach not only get out of the house and “blow the winter stink off them,” as my mother-in-law used to say, but they also have the satisfaction of raising funds for a good cause.
I guess a frosty dip gets the heart pumping. But for those whose hearts don’t pump perfectly, they probably ought to opt for the candlelight and fondue instead.
And speaking of pumping hearts, the Super Bowl is another one of those February festivities designed to perk everybody up.
As we all know, the actual football game is the least of the excitement, far surpassed by the theatrics surrounding it, although my sources tell me that this year’s game was not the snoozer it often is.
I watched a bit of the pre-game drama on Sunday when I saw a man who calls himself the Commissioner of Tailgating pumping the crowd with tales of his accomplishments this season: so many tailgating parties he’s hosted, so many wings consumed, so many miles traveled – all in the name of fan-hood.
At the end of the interview, he took off his shirt and climbed into the hot tub he brought along, which was filled with a half-dozen other nuts.
Sounds like formidable competition for the Polar Plungers.
Me? I miss the warmth as much as anyone. But I’m perusing the Planner for indoor parties, preferably near fireplaces and fondue pots.