Every Feb. 2 morning, I receive a gift (usually something small, like socks, chapstick or a book) from the “Great Groundhog.” For dinner that night, my family always eats a meatloaf and a cake shaped like a groundhog. When I was little, I loved this green dress with two animals on the pockets. To anyone else, they are undoubtedly hedgehogs. To me, they were always groundhogs.
As I’ve grown older and left home for college, I’ve only grown to appreciate Groundhog Day more. It reminds me to celebrate occasions even if there isn’t a CVS aisle dedicated to it.
For those who are unaware, the holiday is observed mostly in Canada and the United States where you’re meant to observe whether a designated groundhog sees its shadow when it emerges from its burrow. If it does, there are six more weeks of winter; if it doesn’t, spring will emerge early, or so the story goes.
My family owns around four stuffed groundhogs, all of which are in various states of disrepair due to excessive hugging from my brother and I as children. Our friends and family receive a Groundhog Day card that shows us smiling alongside our dog — and a printed out groundhog that my mom manually sticks onto the picture. The card is crafted every year with cut up magazine letters my mom glues together to spell “Happy Groundhog Day.” It’s a way to spread a little cheer when all the Christmas and New Year’s cards have been discarded.
The holiday season ends Jan. 1, right before some of the hardest months of the year. Boston is left with devastating cold, very little sunlight and a short break before being flung into what can be a grating spring semester.
Celebrating Groundhog Day extends the holidays. It is the best excuse to see family and friends, to go all out for food and have fun with it, because it is fun to celebrate a holiday devoted to a small, otherwise unimportant rodent.
My family’s tradition started because my maternal grandmother always baked special pies for Flag Day and George Washington’s Birthday— all the small holidays. For her, it was important to find ways to celebrate. When my aunt came home one day and asked why nothing was ever done for Groundhog Day, my family’s Feb. 2 celebrations were born sometime in the 1960s. My grandmother made the first of many meatloaf dinners and later, my grandfather built a “tree” with a silhouette (or shadow) of a groundhog as the base, branches made of groundhog cutouts and topped with a sun.
When my mom went to college, she would occasionally make cards for her friends and would encourage everyone to wear brown on the day. After college, she began baking the Groundhog Day cake and meatloaf herself.
We have definitely gained a reputation over the years. My family has received a few Groundhog Day cards from friends inspired by our love of the holiday. And since I was around 3 years old, I have spent the entire day being asked whether or not Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow.
Over the years, these celebrations have translated into a general love of the animal. Seeing groundhogs in the wild is like seeing a close friend. They can be troublesome, running around my hometown of Ithaca, N.Y., and occasionally destroying a beloved plant. But to me, they can do no wrong. A beautiful portrait of a groundhog ascending hangs in the center of our home. (A year ago, my parents adopted a groundhog, whom they’ve named Pam. She has burrowed under their front step and comes out to sun herself in the summers.) Maybe you don’t need to take your love of groundhogs that far — a meatloaf is always a good place to start.
You might be feeling isolated or stuck inside this winter — or maybe you just want something to look forward to. The answer is to bake something fun. Go out to dinner with friends. Make decorations. There needs to be room for celebration in the midst of scheduling and assignments and club meetings. So, this February, make an occasion out of it and maybe celebrate a troublesome groundhog.
Frances Klemm is a third-year international affairs and cultural anthropology combined major. She can be reached at [email protected].
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