For alumni of the University of Dallas (like my husband and me), these early days of February hit deep (and drunken) chords.
Groundhog is the best party of the year. Why? you ask.
I believe the story (the myth?) goes something like this: Back during the days of the university's inception, some of the students were eager to start some traditions. Being wonderful UD students, they recognized the irony of beginning a tradition, something that is by definition handed down to you. So they asked a wise teacher, Dr. Donald Cowan, the grandfather of my dear friend Glencora, how one begins a tradition. He responded:
"Celebrate something. Celebrate Groundhog Day."
And they did.
At least that's how the story goes.
This is not a blog about UD or about traditions or about groundhogs. I have struggled for a while deciding what this blog would be about. I wanted something for my far away family and friends to keep tabs on us; I've felt this longing ever since I found out I was pregnant. So would this be a (gasp) MomBlog?? Would I fill post after post with narcissistic musings about my children and my crafts and what I've cooked recently? I will admit very quickly that I like momblogs. I follow several that I find endlessly entertaining, but this question paralyzed me. I cared too much about what people thought about me to present my trivialities so publicly.
But thinking about this story, about Groundhog day and the problem of starting a tradition, I realized that perhaps I should just take Dr. Grandfather Cowan's advice. Perhaps I should understand my project as celebration. The UDers who began the tradition of Groundhog were seeking something grand to make into a tradition and realized that they needed to celebrate something to make it grand.