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By Maura Madden
Let me just start out by wishing you and yours a belated Happy Groundhog Day. As I write this, in the evening of this fine holiday, my heart is full of the love that can only be felt after having been face to face with the prophetic properties of a live groundhog. This morning, February 2nd the year 2003 at seven a.m., my friends and I journeyed through time and space to witness in-person our first ever groundhog festivity. Now, we did not make the five-hour journey to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, for it is really too commercial and frankly, too far away. No, instead we chose to visit a local hog of the ground, the regionally honored if not nationally recognized, "Staten Island Chuck." That's right, boys and girls, this very morning, as light began to break in gray and blue waves across the sky, we sat swathed in the warmth of a hired car. We were on our way to the Staten Island Zoo, four out of hundreds, yes, hundreds of people on their way to "Rock the Hog."
The plan was my brainchild, but I cannot take full credit, or blame, for its final outcome. The plan was simple, and seemingly without flaw. It went a little something like this:
1) I invite three of my best friends from college to have a slumber party in honor of Groundhog Day.
2) They accept this invitation, with grace and enthusiasm.
3) We send numerous emails to one another detailing the history of the holiday, the popularity of groundhogs across the great nation, and the specifics of the event we are slated to attend. Four hearts are aflutter in anticipation of the day.
4) My friends arrive at my house on the Groundhog Eve, and we share a meal together. The conversation is bright and winning, and we are a happy crew.
5) We watch the videocassette recording ofGroundhog Day and turn in early to sleep.
6) We awaken bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on February 2nd, 2003, and make merry on our way to the sacred place.
7) We watch the groundhog as he looks for his shadow while drinking delicious coffee and maybe enjoying a nice scone.
8) We walk from the Staten Island Zoo through Staten Island on our way to the Ferry. We marvel at the merits and eccentricities of the Fifth Borough and enjoy the brisk morning air.
9) We hit the Island of Manhattan like children reborn, carrying our tidings of groundhog meteorology. We are welcomed as heroes.
We followed the plan to the letter, or should I say number, until we arrived at five. At five, everything fell apart. The rewritten plan went something like this.
1) See above.
2) See above.
3) See above.
4) See above.
5) After dinner, we decide against watching the movie and go to a nearby bar where a college friend is spinning instead. The plan is to "get one drink and leave."
6) We get one drink and stay. And stay and stay and stay. We stay at the bar until two am, four hours before my alarm is scheduled to wake us for the festivities. The decision to leave the bar "early" is met with fierce resistance by two out of four of us, one who suggests that we "stay up all night and go straight to the hog" and the other who is quick to remind us that she "never wanted to see the groundhog in the first place." The two who wish to leave are more persuasive speakers and convince the others it is indeed time to go. The four of us leave the bar.
7) Before we turn in for bed, three out of four of us beg the fourth to "forget about the stupid groundhog." The fourth stands firm (and this is not me, mind you). We leave the alarm set for six a.m.
8) The alarm goes off at six a.m. and causes three out of four of us to plead, nearly in tears, "Don't make us go to Staten Island."
9) The fourth wins. We sloppily pile on layers of clothing, cursing at one another while waiting for the bathroom, arm ourselves with coffee and muffins, and head out the door. We are only five minutes late for our car. It is 6:35 a.m.
10) On the car ride, the conversation turns to the difference between groundhogs and woodchucks. They are revealed to be the same. My farming friend, who is already the least chipper of the bunch, is livid. "Woodchucks?" she exclaims. "I hate woodchucks! They eat all of our crops. We kill those things!"
11) We arrive in Mecca as a steady stream of Staten Island families enters the zoo. We hastily pay our driver and join the crowd.
12) We note a high incidence of teenagers walking angrily to the zoo, wrapped in blankets. It seems that may not actually want to be here as much as some of us do. And my farming friend is jealous of their additional coverings.
13) There are signs that say "This way to see Chuck," and we follow them and the crowd to the grounds of the ceremony.
14) A man works on an ice sculpture of a groundhog to the left of the main stage. We take our positions beside him.
15) The MC begins the festivities. He has got to be Fred WillardŐs brother. His hair is slick and artificially black and he is wearing a tuxedo with a gold bow tie and a white opera scarf. He begins his speech by addressing the space shuttle Columbia disaster. This seems somewhat out-of-place, given the setting. The inappropriateness is confirmed when a clown making balloon animals behind me yells, "And how old are you, little girl?" at somebody's mother while the MC leads a moment of silence.
16) A woman performs the worst rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner" that I have ever heard. Again, I question the formality of the occasion and the need for this kind of patriotism.
17) A group of Native American dancers perform a ceremonial dance giving props to the Creator while carrying an American flag. They also take a moment to acknowledge the seven people lost in the space shuttle disaster. I'm not saying it isnŐt sad, but didn't the Native Americans lose more than seven people at the hands of our founding fathers? I bite my tongue. The dancers end by giving thanks to the Creator for Staten Island Chuck.
18) Chuck is introduced by his handler, who sort of looks like a groundhog. The crowd gets to its feet, and we crane our necks to see him. What happens next? He sees his shadow. That means six more weeks of winter, kids. It is official, and my farming friend is now really pissed.
19) Chuck is taken around to meet the crowd. His handler holds him at arms length while Chuck guttles a corncob. His handler has a handler who trails him and keeps the rowdy youngsters from getting too close to the celebrities, mainly watching over Chuck.
20) We trail the Chuck posse while taking a ridiculous number of photos. My one friend gets to pet Chuck. She says, "One of my lifelong dreams has now been fulfilled." She seems to be serious.
21) We are enjoying the brisk morning air and the festivities when my farming friend breaks down. She starts crying, "I hate Groundhog Day! I want to go home!" Stunned, we call a cab and scrounge for the fare. Between the four of us, we have just enough to get back to Brooklyn. I thank my lucky stars that I didn't by the "Zoovenir" Chuck mug, for if I had, we might have been stuck on the Island.
So we called it a day, and went back to my house, crawled into our beds and hibernated til noon. And when I woke up, I wasn't quite sure if it had in fact happened, or if it had just been a dream. But the sun was shining, so I knew it was after 6 a.m., and the mud on my sneakers confirmed the journey. And the warm air filtering in made me question the hog's authority, but no amount of false prediction could make me love him less.
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