ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Monday, February 10, 1997 TAG: 9702120020
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: BEN BEAGLE
SOURCE: BEN BEAGLE
Now, we really get into winter. I don't care about the groundhog or its shadow. We are in February, boys.
In February, the temperature could be in the 70s and we'd be eating fresh corn on the cob by the 28th. And going to the pool. But it would still be February.
Most people can't remember a single decent thing happening to them in February. My helpmate and our youngest daughter were born in February, but that doesn't mean they have any regard whatsoever for the month itself.
It's not just that nothing good ever happens in February. Nothing at all happens - except for Valentine's Day, which is not all that breath-taking.
My research indicates that this is the month in which the red-haired bombshell who told you in December that you were her everything tells you to take a hike.
Well, you know how that goes, pal. Christmas comes in December and everything has stars on it and everybody sings carols and the whole world turns to soup. Then, you and the gang sing "Auld Lang Syne" down at Tony's or somewhere.
And then, everybody has a hangover that could be cut up and served and the magic is gone and you wish it was October again.
Think about it. You ever hear anybody singing anything in February? Except, maybe, an old-fashioned dirge? February means mud and maybe dirty snow, and you can't blame a girl for thinking it over in a month like that.
And all of you dumped guys will go back to smoking again and stand outside on the street in the cold to have a puff. Listen. R.J. Reynolds loves February.
Tony's will do a great business because all you people won't be drinking for the holidays anymore. You'll be drinking to get rid of February.
I believe that a poll of plumbers would show that this is the month in which most commodes leak or overflow; or water heaters die; or your Aunt Zelda calls you at 4 a.m. because she has sewage in the basement.
In February, floors that have behaved themselves for years begin to creak while you're making the coffee, or taking a shower, or having a bourbon and water, or crying a lot. Floors don't do things like that in August - which is also a lousy month except it doesn't have a groundhog in it.
I'll meet you down at Tony's after dark next Tuesday - the drinks being on you.
I don't want to see my shadow until April 27.
LENGTH: Medium: 51 linesby CNB