There are many reasons to hate February. The Romans thought so little of it, they originally left it off the calendar. In 700 B.C., though, they added January and February, so the year would match the length of one trip around the sun. Both months were 28 days long but January somehow gained three more. Twenty-eight days was more than enough for February however. It was named for “Februa” a festival of purification that involved ritual washing. After the pandemic, we still do plenty of ritual washing.
Then Julius Caesar started Leap Year to keep the calendar accurate. Why add a day to the month we least want lengthened? Wouldn’t July 32nd have made more sense? It’s because the Romans were superstitious about numbers and thought the even ones brought bad luck — which doesn’t explain the Ides of March, but still …
February isn’t only our most miserable month, it’s also difficult to spell. That’s because no one pronounces the first “r.” I was training an assistant and the first question she asked was, “How do you spell February?” I can’t blame her. If I didn’t write for this newspaper Wednesday Journal, I’d still be struggling with that word.
February contains Groundhog Day, the silliest holiday we celebrate. Punxsutawney Phil is as poor as Phil Connors at predicting weather. The weathercaster failed to predict the blizzard that stranded him in Pennsylvania, while the rodent-caster is right only 37% of the time. Plus, Forest Park has been slammed twice on Groundhog Day with record snowfall. On February 2, 2011, a blizzard dumped 21.2 inches of snow.
Exactly four years later, we dug out from 19.3 inches of the white stuff. My college students braved this blizzard to attend services at Living Word. Like most college kids, they loved going to church on snowy Sunday mornings. They also enjoyed studying sculptor Edmonia Lewis during Black History Month.
Why was our shortest, gloomiest month chosen for Black History? Because February contains the birthdays of the “Great Emancipator,” Abraham Lincoln and abolitionist Frederick Douglass. In February 2019, I hosted two book signings to celebrate Black history. The first was on the North Side and drew three people. I ended up stuck with a whole platter of pastries from Twisted Cookie but found plenty of volunteers in the newsroom to scarf them down.
The second book signing was on the South Side and drew zero people. This time, I was only stuck with wine, cheese and crackers. The lesson I learned was that Chicagoans don’t leave their homes in February, regardless of Black History events and free refreshments.
What February has in history, it lacks in sporting events. After the Super Bowl, February is a sports desert. This year, though, we have the Summer Olympics in Paris. This is a competition to see which Parisians can flee their city the fastest. The losers who are stuck behind are practicing their rudeness. All of which has nothing to do with February, but still …
February’s one saving grace may be Valentine’s Day. I’ve had many memorable Valentine’s Days but the memories are mostly embarrassing. There was the time I stood up my wife because a lawyer named Dick Valentine kept me overtime. There was the romantic musical we almost missed because Sizzler was serving all-you-can-eat shrimp. But I most remember a Valentine’s Day blizzard that forced me to trudge through snow bearing a red rose and a bottle of wine.
Finally, February has Presidents Day. How did we get this holiday? Did one of our chief executives own a mattress store? How do we celebrate if we didn’t like some former presidents, or dislike the current one?
My final question is, why does the shortest month seem longer than all the rest?
