Memory Monday–It’s a thing…
Last week, I told you about my grandfather insinuating I was a hound dog by singing Elvis tunes to me. I promised a story about groundhogs for this week’s post, so here we go…
I was born on February 7th and just a mere five days before my birthday is a faux holiday called Groundhogs Day. Presumably, on groundhogs day, a groundhog will pop up out of the ground. If the groundhog sees his/her shadow, there will be six more weeks of winter. It the critter doesn’t see a shadow, spring is on the way. Apparently, this holiday is a big deal in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. The holiday has nothing to do with the Bill Murray movie where his character lives the same day over and over…which now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever watched the movie.
Grandpa being Grandpa used to tell me that if I had been born five days earlier, I would have been a groundhog instead of a little girl. Every single time he said it I would have an emotional melt down and cry for hours. I would wail, “But I don’t want to be a groundhog!” which only encouraged him to continue reaffirming the fact that I narrowly escaped my groundhog fate by a measly five days.
The fact that I was born five days later and that I absolutely was a little girl didn’t seem to matter to me. The suggestion that I could have been a groundhog was enough to send me into hysterics. It didn’t matter to me at the time that my birth date couldn’t and wouldn’t be changed and neither could my species.
I’ve tried to think of other animals Grandpa either told me I was or could have been, but those are the only two I could come up with so far. Even now, I’m not sure why I had such an overwhelming emotional response to those things. However, I did think of a few more animal stories related to my adventures with Grandpa so unless a more vivid memory strikes me in the coming weeks, we’ll continue down memory lane with animal stories.
Thanks for reading!
A girl (well, woman now), NOT a hound dog or groundhog.