Groundhog Fatherhood: Is This the End for Punxsutawney Phil?
Ladies and gentlemen, I am both happy and sad to announce that the legendary Punxsutawney Phil has become a father for the first time. I’m happy because, let’s face it, becoming a dad ranks right up there with buying that first car or graduating from a single-burner gas grill to a quad. I’m also sad because I know what fatherhood can do to a man.
Does this mark the end of Punxsutawney Phil and his role of predicting whether or not winter will continue to pummel certain portions of the country without the foresight to store up enough road salt and wiper fluid? I hope not. Really.
Seeing More Than Shadows
I’m a dad. I remember when my kids were crumb crunchers. One of them sleep-walked frequently enough that we considered a DNA test to determine whether or not he had ancestors in Transylvania. Our youngest child had a strange habit of coming into our bedroom in the middle of the night, standing by the bedside, and staring. Imagine waking up to that five nights per week.
Poor Phil is going to be seeing more than just shadows for the next 16-24 months. If he is like most parents, he’s going to be hallucinating on par with Timothy Leary – and that’s on a good day. On a bad day, he might just wander around the groundhog hole mumbling about how he’s never going to buy that sports car he always wanted because college tuition costs so much.
At some point, Punxsutawney Phil is bound to see his life flash before his eyes. He’s going to remember the days before dirty diapers and his little boy peeing on him during the changing thereof. He’s going to remember that time before his little girl learned how to get whatever she wanted by batting her eyes and gently cooing, or whining if necessary, “I love you daddy!”
Forget determining whether or not he sees his shadow on the 2nd of February. He’ll be lucky if wife Phyllis lets him out of the house long enough to spend time with his favorite friends dressed in black overcoats and top hats that are too tall for anyone with a modicum of decorum.
It’s Back to the Weather Person
The most disconcerting aspect to all of this is having to go back to trusting the weather person to tell us how the seasons are going. Since when can weather persons predict the weather? Isn’t that why we have been loyal to old Punxsutawney Phil for so long?
Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing personal against weather persons. Some of them are very good at simultaneously pointing to a green screen with one hand while pushing clicker buttons with the other. Some weather persons are so skilled at their craft that they can drone on and on, almost endlessly, thereby limiting the amount of time the sports guy has to read scores from a teleprompter sitting a mere six feet away.
I guess trusting a rodent’s opinion about seasonal weather matters is so ingrained in my psyche that I can’t imagine facing February without Punxsutawney Phil and his gaggle of adults masquerading as intelligent masses of flesh. Don’t let us down, Phil. Take one for the team and stick with your winter prognostications.
Let’s Not Forget Phyllis
In all of the news stories announcing the birth of the Punxsutawney Phil’s progeny (wouldn’t PP’s Progeny be a cool name for a Netflix original series?) wife Phyllis is barely mentioned. That’s a shame. We all know about Phil and his talent for predicting long term weather patterns, yet we know far too little about Phyllis. Maybe the overcoat and top had gang wants it that way.
Phil and Phillis, here’s hoping you make wonderful parents. Here’s hoping that Phil, when the kids are grown and gone, still has enough social skills to emerge from his hole and entertain the good people of Punxsutawney, PA with a prediction about winter. But if becoming a father means it’s time to retire, may he go with his furry little head held high. He has earned our respect.
