If you’re like me, you’re delighted that we finally made it to February. I guess it’s because it comes right after Christmas, but it seems that it takes a lifetime to get through the month of January. It might also have something to do with all of the Christmas bills that show up about that time.
Of course, this past January was a little more tolerable, since Jerry and Barry and “da boys” made it to another Super Bowl. Recalling the “eloquent” comments of Michael Irvin and Nate Newton after the Green Bay game, it makes you wonder if pro athletes will ever again give speeches like Lou Gehrig.
In addition to being a long month, January (as well as December before it) was also a hectic one for me. Work and other activities caused me to be just about every place but home. As everyone knows, it is so easy to get caught up in the chaos of a busy schedule and lose sight of your priorities. And then, little things catch your attention that help you regain your balance and remember what’s important.
As I watched my first-grader singing (and yawning and singing) in his school’s Christmas program, I had one of those occasional realizations that this little kid who only yesterday was my only baby is now the oldest of three and is growing up.
In the course of one football season, he had experienced a Damascus-road conversation, and had gone from not caring at all about football to overwhelming me with color commentary on every play of every game that could be found on television. To him, every play was “more incredible” than the last play. He wanted to know what every hand gesture and signal by the official meant.
And now that he has become a veteran of the soccer field, he is in his debut season on the basketball court, with the unfortunate handicap of having his dad as his assistant coach (white men – especially fat, old white men – really can’t jump). I have given him some practical basketball tips, however, like dribble on the court, not on yourself.
Although the basket is at eight feet instead of the usual 10 feet and I am six feet, that two-foot difference might as well be two million feet. I guess I’ll just have to be content slam-dunking my underwear in the laundry hamper.
February is the month we used to celebrate the birthdays of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. We used to have cherry pie or cobbler for Washington’s birthday, probably in honor of Washington not telling a lie about chopping down a cherry tree. Frankly, I figured it was just an excuse to eat cherry pie or cobbler.
Now, however, these individually significant presidents have been rolled into a much more amorphous and generic, and much less meaningful holiday, known as President’s Day. Let’s face it; although becoming president is an impressive accomplishment, not every president has been impressive. Thomas Jefferson is my personal favorite, and it is difficult to consider presidents like Chester Arthur or Millard Fillmore to be worthy of the same recognition.
I suppose I’ll never really understand the national holiday thing. Since Washington and Lincoln have become generic, and Christopher Columbus has been found politically incorrect, and the Christ part of Christmas has been declared unconstitutional, the only person who has a national holiday in his honor is Martin Luther King, Jr. And I bet he would have greatly preferred that we practice what he preached, instead of paying lip service with national holidays. Judging people fairly and based on their ability is much more beneficial to our national health than one more three-day holiday weekend. But if having national holidays helps us remember, then perhaps we should dust off these other disregarded holidays to see what else we might find.
