Donovan Kelly
Crummy But Good Writer with a Lighter Touch
Alas, poor February, we know you too well. But it's not your fault. Nobody ever asks to be the shrimp, the grouchy runt of the litter.
Runtness can be especially hard when you have 11 larger sibling months to pick on you. February must endure constant jeering from his, bigger, more over-dayed brother months. Even worse, they were all named for rich kings, Roman gods and big numbers. Who can respect a month named for Febrilis, the god of colds and fevers? Even the Romans didn't know whether to pray to Febrilis or to pray against him. What chance had his name sake? A dismal god begat a dismal month.
As the smallest month, February also must wear the hand-me-down clothes of the other months and take the leftover holidays. Let's see, who should we give Ground Hog Day to?
Poor February. All that abuse, even though he is the second oldest month and heir to the throne should something happen, gods forbid, to January. If January were to disappear, then it would be February the world celebrated eagerly with champagne the midnight before. February would be the month we filled with new resolve, hope and resolutions. Wow, Tomorrow is February! Happy New Year!
Not to be. Such dashed dreams the short-straw month must bear. A confused runt of a month, bound to grow up with a Napoleonic complex. Like Napoleon, dreaming of global glory while fighting taunts and short jokes at home. Always standing alone with one hand hidden inside his coat. Why do you hide one hand, February? Are you reaching for a gun, warming cold fingers, or scratching your belly? Ahh, but you won't tell. That's the cold dark secret of February, the hidden hand, the surprise that may or may not happen.
No wonder February struggles with psychological problems and displays wide mood swings. Not quite winter, not quite spring, just plain old confused February. This moody confusion is contagious and no vaccine is yet available. Direct contact with known February victims can be deadly, but everyone is vulnerable, especially those who are not the tallest, not the prettiest, and not the most fashionable. Especially susceptible are February people who cannot say, "While I'm in Miami, would you please water my plants?"
Water your plants indeed. A pox upon your plants and your tan. Do you not know that this is the month to wallow sunless, in Febru-morosity? February is the month of stern duty, stay-in-bed and anti-social sneezing. Go ahead, get thee to a Miamiry, while we loyal bleak band of brothers, just February along.