Meteorologist

February, the month of love, black history, and then there is the rat. Adults, looking to a rodent for predictions in weather and the future of winter and spring. When on earth did that become a celebrated thing? It’s ridiculous, and yet some take it seriously.

Seasons are seasons and have a duration. They do not exist on our time schedule, nor the musings of a rodent, actor. Yes, it’s cute and whimsical, but do we have to have a set day of the year to ask an animal of spring will come earlier or later? Don’t we have better things to do?

Real, scientific and educated meteorologists don’t predict daily weather correctly, and yet we think a fat little rat has the all seeing eye? We spend an awful lot of time and energy each year waiting for the second of February, for the fortune teller, to tell us if we get to have an end to winter early or not.

I’ll make it plain and simple for everyone. Winter lasts three months, give or take. Spring comes, every year and lasts the same amount of time. Each season has a transition that is gradual and fluctuates. It has always been and will always be. Simple.

I know any this time of year we are all dying to warm up, get outdoors, and enjoy the rejuvenation of our parts of the world, but every season makes us feel the same way.

Winter gets old, and we hunger for spring. Spring and never ending rains, get old and we drool for summer. Summer wears out, from too much heat and high temperatures, and we yearn for fall, and coziness. Then fall becomes gloomy and once we are all decked out in sweaters and hot cocoa, we clammer for snow, fires, slippers, celebrations and gatherings, that we covet throughout our lives.

This is all as it should be. I don’t understand why we lament it. Each season always comes. No matter what a human or rodent meteorologist says.

Let’s face it, Phil, did not get a university degree in meteorology, like the humans on television did. He has no reason to be trusted. Granted, the degree in meteorology should be a degree in fortune telling, because let’s face it, they get it wrong more times than right, but it is what it is.

Truthfully, I don’t really put that much stock in the weather forecasters, either. I know that they get closer, and have the “science” to back them up, but really, they cannot say definitely what the weather will be. They use predictive patterns to “forecast” the weather. “Forecast” is an estimated calculation of the future. Estimate, is a general idea or judgement of what is in the future. I am fairly sure farmers, have this down, better than the personalities on the boob tube, and the hamster in Philly.

I do think it is bloody brilliant that a little town like Punxsutawney, has put themselves, front and center every single year for a day. That is great marketing and advertising for tourism, if you think about it. Even Hollywood is in on the deal, having made a fun piece of cinematic history with a movie, that gets played over and over again on February 2. I will admit that I even sat one day and watched the movie over and over the entire day, since that was the theme of the movie. It was fun.

Really, though, the amount of money spent on promoting this ridiculousness, is mind boggling. I do not much, like waste. Waisting time on this kind of frivolity is pointless, for me. Frivolity, is not pointless, just the particular one is. I’d rather see, all the monies spent on the entire celebration, put to ending trafficking.

There seems to be a lack of attention given to that atrocity in humanity. That, to me, is criminal and telling of our priorities. While we are heaving a rat up in the air and worshipping its weather predicting prowess, which is none, two or more humans are trafficked every single minute. That’s 120 every hour, 2880 per day, 20,160 per week, 80,640 per month, and 197,680 per year.

I look art those numbers and can’t even comprehend the number of children, youths, men, and women, being taken each year. But let’s take this day in somber and anticipatory recognition of a squirrel. Let’s make a day of it. Astounding! Simply and sadly astounding.