Groundhog Day head-scratchers

Eileen White Jahn of Rockville Centre chairs the business administration department at St. Joseph's College in Patchogue.

The Chinese New Year starts tomorrow, bringing in the Year of the Rabbit.

Perhaps, if we ask the Chinese really nicely, they would make it the Year of the Groundhog. If there ever was a winter when we needed the groundhog, this is the one.

This year Mother Nature is walloping us. And as a Long Islander, I take this walloping weather very personally. Considering our high taxes and cost of living, the least we deserve is the mild winter the Gulf Stream usually brings us. What a rip-off! If I wanted to shovel this much snow, I could do it on the cheap in Pennsylvania, where the famous groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, is having his annual party today.

My family has a cousin who lives in Punxsutawney, and we have visited the town. It's a very little place. The premiere of the 1993 movie "Groundhog Day" couldn't be held there, because the town is too small to have a movie theater. That's what you get for low taxes and a negligible cost of living - that and a lot of snow.

Legend has it that on this date each year, the groundhog emerges from his winter hibernation for a quick check of his shadow. Who, besides Peter Pan, ever thinks about his shadow? Also, how the groundhog knows the date is beyond me. But I guess that if the birdbrain swallows of Capistrano can figure out how to return there every March 19, this walnut-sized-brain mammal can figure out how to emerge on Feb. 2.

The tale claims that if the sun is shining and the groundhog sees his shadow, we'll have six more weeks of winter. If he doesn't see his shadow, we'll have an early spring. Which, if you do the math, is really confusing. Six weeks from Feb. 2 is March 16. Winter doesn't officially end until March 20. So March 16 would be an early spring in any case.

I think the little fellow is hedging his bets. Would that make him a hedgehog? If a groundhog gets a wart, can we call him a warthog? All these questions on top of the weather predictions are making my head hurt.

In recent years we've acquired a local groundhog, Malverne Mel. He should be able to predict our own spring more accurately. Last year he predicted six more weeks of winter. We had that - plus two more. Which, of course, means that Mel was right. He's always going to be right if he goes with that prediction. Holy moley, can we ever catch a break?

The point is, we need every bit of help we can get to end this awful winter, and Groundhog Day could provide a little ray of hope. But if there's a little ray of sunshine, our hopes are dashed - because then the groundhog sees the shadow, and we don't get an early spring. This is ironic, considering that we need as much sun as we can get to hasten an early spring.

When all is said and done, Phil and Mel need only to go back into their holes and sleep until the world warms up again. Wouldn't it be nice if we all could hibernate like the little rodents of our lives?

Happy New Rabbit Year, Happy Groundhog Day and - please - have a lovely sleep until spring.