Original Leisure & Entertainment

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Jennifer’s children wanted a dog. That is normal for children, and Jennifer decided that maybe it would be good for them to learn responsibility. So Jennifer sat down with them and talked to them about how important it would be that the dogs were . . . 

As we look back on our on-going confinement and stay-at-home practices we may express some form of the “Shoulda Woulda Coulda” song by Beverley Knight released in 2002. We might already be thinking we “shoulda woulda coulda” be using our time more productively.

At first, we all probably welcomed the opportunity to get things done around the house – chores we’ve put off because there never was enough time to get to them during our busy work-a-day life and even retirement activities. You know what I’m referring to – that hall closet, chest of drawers, storage trunk, basement, garage, attic, and so forth, that is messy or full of junk! Items we ment to go through years ago but just haven’t been able to get around to.

Well, here many of us still are with more than enough time on our hands to get to it! So how are you doing? Are you managing to get some of those put-off items completed? Or are you saying you “shoulda woulda coulda” if you were more ambitious and better organized during your stay-at-home time?
My wife, Marty, and I started out like a house-a-fire doing spring cleaning with a vengeance. There was yard work to do when the weather cooperated, closets to clean out, repainting, redecorating, defrosting the freezer, catching up on those put-off projects and even creating some new ones just to be doing something constructive. My wife – who normally is a great cook – became even more ambitious in the kitchen and created some delightful dishes. I resumed exercises long neglected but now necessary since I was gaining weight from eating too much. We both tried to walk our dogs several times a week to benefit both their health and ours. Our two dogs, incidentally, have been in seventh heaven throughout our confinement since we seldom leave the house except to go for a ride, dogs included. Afterall, gas is cheap!

In fact, quarantine has turned us all into dogs. We roam the house all day long looking for food. We are told “no” if we get too close to strangers. And we really get excited about car rides.

Speaking of being together, not since the days of Adam and Eve have spouses, children and perhaps pets spent so much time together in one space. At least our first parents had a large garden in which to roam. Yet, this is a perfect time for families to get to know each other, to talk and really listen. And more importantly, to truly love and care for one other!
However, as I’m sure many of you can relate, we’ve grown a little lazy in our day-to-day activities. It’s so nice to sleep in; after all there are no appointments to keep, schedules to follow or activities in which to engage. Our calendar has X’s on nearly every day. There still are some things to do, but as the days and weeks endlessly pass, we’ve grown a little lax in our efforts.

And if you’re searching for more things to read, you know those old books on your shelves with beautifully bound covers so attractive look at? Well, check them out! I’ll bet you’ll find some classics to peruse again. Works like The Plays of William Shakespeare, Emmerson’s Essays, Vanity Fair, War and Peace, The Iliad, Crime and Punishment, Gone with the Wind and more. This time around you don’t have to write a book report about it or, worse yet, give an oral report!

For our own sanity we’ve got to look for ways to keep ourselves occupied and our minds functioning. The trouble with doing nothing is not knowing when you’re finished. Maybe now is the time to begin writing a journal or diary, practicing yoga, exercising more, reading the Bible, or setting aside quiet time daily for meditation or prayer.

Distance yourself from any emotional vampires who suggest you play the game of “shoulda woulda coulda.” Refocus yourself on the now and know you have the power to improve upon the present even if it’s still in your home for quite a while yet with too much time on your hands. Focus on being alone – together. Because by staying apart, for now, we stay together.
Let’s conclude with a work written in 1869 by Kathleen O’Mara and reportedly reprinted during the Spanish Flu Pandemic, 1919:

And people stayed at home, And read books, And listened, And they rested, And did exercises,
And made art and played, And learned new ways of being, And stopped and listened more deeply.
Someone meditated, Someone prayed, Someone met their shadow, And people began to think differently, And people healed.
And in the absence of people who lived in ignorant ways, Dangerous, meaningless and heartless, The earth also began to heal, And when the danger ended and people found themselves, They grieved for the dead, And made new choices, And dreamed of new visions, And created new ways of living.
And completely healed the earth, Just as they were healed.

This Mother’s Day was different. My mother didn’t recognize me no matter how I tried to jog her memory. “Mom, it’s Lois. You like my quilt shop and touching the pretty fabrics.” Even speaking to her in German did not bring a response. All I could do is read our Mother’s Day card to her, stroke her hand and speak to her of things we did together not knowing if she could comprehend what I was saying or not. Although God may grant her many more days, our sharing time is coming to a close. Reaching out to her with patience and kindness on good days and bad is now my greatest gift to my mom, my first needlework teacher.

Memorial Day comes early this year and I’ve marched in all the parades since becoming a Waynedale writer. This year Memorial Day will be different too as there will be no parade due to the pandemic. I always enjoyed the number of people who would come out to cheer and clap us on, but what I liked the most is the parade’s final destination: The Prairie Grove Cemetery. The ceremony at the cemetery is powerful in its simplicity. The Wayne High School band plays patriotic music and the names of the recently departed veterans are read while a bell tolls for them. Then, there is a speech reflecting on the day, and a 21 – gun salute, all amidst veteran graves marked with American flags. It is a somber reminder of the gratitude we owe not only to the fallen but the fathers, wives, children and especially their mothers who mourn their ultimate sacrifice for our freedom.

Even though there is no parade I’ll still drive out to Prairie Grove to reflect on what it means to live in freedom and the ultimate price so many have paid for it.

April gently sprinkles our hills with springtime beauty, and with plenty of showers to encourage the grass to grow green and lush. The apple trees put forth their fragrant pink and white blossoms, promising fruit in the future. There is a forecast for frost in our hills, so hopefully it won’t freeze the bloom.

The redbud trees are blooming now, and the white dogwoods are putting out their blossoms that bless our hills. Redbud trees have always been special to me. My brother Larry planted one for Mom in our front yard when I was growing up, and it was beautiful even when it was not blooming. Heart-shaped leaves that turned yellow in the fall made a spot of beauty there. I’ve always been attracted to the pods that come after the flowers are gone, and I once found a recipe for stir-fries containing them.

They must have been past their prime, as they tasted like a mouthful of dry leaves or hay. They have to be picked while they are pink and tender. The flowers can be used in a salad (my sister Mary Ellen has used them often) and my flower book says that they can be fried. That is something I’d like to try. Our hills do produce many wild foods that can be eaten.

One of the best wild food is now being found, and that is the mushrooms, which are called morels. We call them “merkles,” and some folks know them as “Molly Moochers.” No matter what you call them, they are one of the most delicious wild mushrooms that abound in our hills, and probably the most widely recognized. They are cone-shaped, and honeycombed. The black and half-cap morels have been found for a little while, but now the yellow ones are appearing.

These are choice edibles, and can be found on the ground in old apple orchards and burned areas. Sometimes they are found under dead elms, poplars, ash, oak and beech trees. I used to find them along the creek, where the soil was rich and moist. In fact, we used to call these yellow ones “creek merkles.” I can remember the first one I ate. Mom was working in the upper end of the bottom, and she found a fat one under a sycamore tree. She fried it and gave it to me on a biscuit. That began a love affair that has never ended.

There are many ways to cook them, but I like them best simply sautéed in a little bacon grease or butter, with salt and pepper. That way, you can taste the full flavor of the mushroom. Criss likes them rolled in flour, and then fried in oil or bacon grease. My nephew Doug’s wife Sally stuffed them with cream cheese and I don’t know what else. They lived in Nebraska where the morels grew really big. She froze a lot of them, brought them home and shared them. They were so good!

You can use them in any recipe that calls for mushrooms. I have chopped them and added them to spaghetti sauce, and also sautéed them and put them on a pizza. They should be cleaned where you find them, by cutting off the bottom of the stalk. When you get home, slice them in half and soak them in salt water to get rid of insects and debris. I didn’t realize until I read just now that morels are best when dried and then dehydrated, preferably in cream. They never last that long in our house!

To dry them, slice them very thin and place them in a food dryer or a barely warm oven. To rehydrate, soak for one to three hours in warm cream or water. I have tried freezing them, but was not too satisfied with the results. Perhaps I didn’t use the right formula, which states that that after they are cleaned, they should be blanched or parboiled. They are then plunged into ice water and drained, and then packed in freezer-safe containers.

Along with ramps, which are in their glory right now, and new poke greens that are sticking their tender little heads through the ground, we can almost live off the land. There is another spring wild food that I love, but since my mother is gone, I am deprived of it now. Each spring she cooked a big mess of creasy greens, and shared them with us. With an iron skillet of hot cornbread dripping with butter, there is no better eating. Creasy greens grew in her garden each spring.

I am happy to report that my husband found a large sack of yellow morels, fresh and tender. After soaking them in salt water all night, they were rolled in flour and fried in bacon grease. There are some things that require bacon grease, although it is frowned upon by many health food cooks. I can’t imagine a pot of fresh green beans right out of the garden without using bacon grease to season them.

April seems to have gathered her flowery garments about her and fled to a warmer spot for right now. She will return …

Earl was a hard-working, family-oriented man. He, his wife, and their children ran a little country store in a small western town. In the area where they lived, there was a lot of excitement about a new branch of the railroad that would be coming through.

When the rail line work started, many new people came. Most of these were families of men who were working on the railroad. Earl’s business increased significantly. But bringing the goods in was costly. Until the rail line was finished, everything had to come over the mountain on mules and wagons.

Earl tried to keep his prices fair. He only added enough markup on goods to pay his costs and take care of his family. But many people complained about the prices at Earl’s store. Most of these were people who had come from other towns much farther south. These towns already had train service and didn’t have the added transportation costs.

Earl and his family had endured the anger and name-calling for some time when the flu epidemic hit. Of all the families in the town, his family was hit the hardest. Many people came in and out of this store, and many carried the flu. Soon, Earl’s whole family was sick.

Though Earl worked from morning until night taking care of his family, he tried to keep his store open as much as possible. He knew the people of the town depended on it. But Earl lost four of his six children, and his wife was bedridden. There were days he had to shut the store to bury his children or just take care of his family. This added more to the anger he received from those who came to town only to find the store closed.

One day, when Earl was driving to the cemetery with the body of his two-year-old daughter in a small pine box, a crowd surrounded his wagon. They started yelling things at him about being rich while others struggled, and him not caring about anyone else. Suddenly, the crowd went crazy. Someone pulled Earl from the wagon, and men began beating him.

Almost instantly, the railroad foreman was there. He knew of the losses Earl had in his family and had even helped Earl bury some of his children. The foreman angrily hit and kicked his way into the circle, single-handedly forcing the men to stop. The foreman helped Earl to his feet, then climbed onto the wagon and held up the small coffin as he spoke.

“You bunch of fools! You blame Earl for your problems when you don’t even know what real problems are. In this box lies the body of his youngest daughter, the fourth of his children he has had to bury. Which one of you would be willing to trade him places? Which of you would be willing to take his store in exchange for those you love?”

The foreman then turned to one of the men who was foremost in the beating. “How about you, John? You haven’t lost a single family member to the flu. Which one of your children’s lives would you like to trade for Earl’s store? How about Timothy or maybe little Susan?”

John couldn’t even look at the foreman as he shook his head. The foreman asked a similar question of others and received a similar response.

“Well, then,” the foreman said, “when you imagine how much better you think it is for someone else, I’d suggest you consider what it would be like to walk in their shoes all the way, not just on the parts of their journey that you like.”

The foreman reached out a hand and pulled Earl back onto the wagon. He then turned to the crowd. “I suggest you get back to your work. As for me, I plan to go to the cemetery and help dig a small grave.”

As Earl and the foreman drove to the cemetery, no one returned to their work. Instead, they followed the wagon. As many men helped dig the small grave next to the three new markers that were already there, no one said a word. But as Earl fell to his knees sobbing when the little wooden box was placed into its place, people in that small country town were changed forever.

As years passed, people who came to that town said there was never a town with more compassion. The old-timers would nod and say it was because those who lived there had to learn the hard way what it was like to walk in someone else’s shoes.

Although small in stature Al was the big brother I never had. Together, we learned to play carroms, checkers and chess. We even developed our own “Morris Code” to signal each other by flashlight through our bedroom windows from homes on different streets separated by an alley in between. Al taught me to box, wrestle, and much to my Dad’s dismay, how to drive.

Al was two grades above me at Cathedral Elementary School in downtown Fort Wayne. He helped me learn my Latin as I became an altar boy — server or acolyte if you will — at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception. Back then the Catholic Mass was in Latin and the server represented the congregation, reciting prayers (in Latin) in answer to the priest celebrant of the Mass.

I’m thinking about this now in particular since the Season of Lent will be ending for several prominent religious denominations prior to Easter Sunday on April 12. Some of these same religions including Lutheran, Methodist, Presbyterian, Anglican, Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches used incense during Lenten religious services for the past month and may also use it during the Easter Season. And that reminds me of three rather humorous incidents that happened to me involving the use of incense. Please bear with me as we provide some background about what some reverentially call “holy smoke.”

The use of incense in religious worship predates Christianity by thousands of years. The word “incense” is derived from the Latin incendere, which means “to burn.” It is commonly used as a noun to describe aromatic matter that releases fragrant smoke when ignited, to describe the smoke itself and as a verb to describe the process of distributing the smoke.

Incense is made from resins and gums of specific plants, which when burned, produce fragrant smoke. Historically, just about every culture has used it for medicinal and spiritual purposes. Native Americans, for instance, used it in healing and purification rituals. Documented evidence also indicates that incense, especially frankincense, was an important trade product for 1,500 years among ancient Persians, Assyrians, Egyptians, Babylonians and Romans. Reportedly, they valued it more than gold and silver.

The censor, also known as the thurible, holds a piece of burning charcoal. The boat (presumably named as such because many vessels are shaped like a boat) holds the incense before it is placed in the censor by the celebrant or minister. The scent and sight of ascending clouds of smoke is supposed to alert the congregants of God’s presence, help put them in contact with God and send their prayers up to heaven.

After Al and others helped me learn acolyte duties for the Mass I was assigned to serve at a funeral. That’s panic-Ville for an eight-year-old youngster. I was given the boat and told to open the lid after the funeral Mass only when the priest was about to incense the earthly remains of the decedent (in a closed casket, thankfully). Oh my gosh! All those people watching and some were crying! But Al, who was holding the censor, said not to worry because he would tell me when it was my time. And he did just that, elbowing me and whispering, “Flip your lid!” It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. But I’m sure the mourners saw me grinning and trying to stifle a laugh.

For a subsequent funeral I was put in charge of the censor. Admittedly, I didn’t watch Al closely enough because instead of holding the vessel by its chain, I placed it in the palm of my left hand. As the old Monsignor slowly spooned incense onto the red-hot charcoal I suddenly yelled “Ouch!” and dropped the censor from my burning hand. It hit the floor in a shower of sparks as the horrified clergy and congregation looked on. No one was laughing, especially me!

The final incident happened many years later when our family attended a Holy Week liturgy. Our youngest child, Christy, was still in preschool. As the server passed by our pew swinging the censor back-and-forth, she asked, “What’s that?” My wife, Marty quickly shushed her and whispered, “I’ll tell you later!” That didn’t satisfy our precocious daughter. She demanded, “What is that!” Again, my wife whispered, “Tell you later!” By now everyone around us was aware of what was happening. Finally, Christy said out loud, “What is that!” Marty then said emphatically, “Incense!” To which Christy replied astonishingly, “Insects?!”

The liturgy was well underway before the snickering subsided. Al would have enjoyed that one!

But if you’re into observing and even celebrating all kinds of anniversaries you can circle several other memorial events on your March calendar. They include: Alexander Graham Bell’s birthday in 1847 on the 3rd and his patent for the telephone in 1876 on the 7th. Since March is the windy month, don’t forget to celebrate Chinook Wind Day on the 12th. And talking about birthdays earlier, you could celebrate Albert Einstein’s on the 14th. He would be the ripe old age of 141. The first book – the Gutenberg Bible – was printed on the 22nd in 1457 and the spoon was invented on the 23rd in 19,000 B.C.

Speaking of ancient dates, the first zoo was founded on the 27th in China in 2000 B.C. and “Respect Your Cat Day” is observed on the 28th in England by the royal edit of Richard II in 1384 condemning cat eating. Ugh!

But what about the “Ides of March,” which occurs on the 15th, and we’re warned to “Beware”? Even if you relied on Cliff Notes or something else to get through Shakespeare in English class, you probably have some memory of a soothsayer warning Julius Caesar to “Beware the Ides of March.” First of all, to ask a practical question: What is/are Ides? And what exactly does “Ides of March” mean?

According to Wikipedia, the word is derived from the Latin verb iduare, which Scientific American defines as to divide. Ides bisect a month in the Roman calendar. Thus, the infamous “Ides of March” comes every year on March 15 and was a marker day used to divide the month into two. Months of the Roman calendar were arranged around three named days — the Kalends (first day of the month), the Nones (7th day in March, May, July and October; 5th in the other months) and the Ides (15th day in March, May, July and October; 13th in the other months). All these days were reference points from which the other (unnamed) days were calculated. Confused? Me too!

The expression “Beware the Ides of March” is first found in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, 1601. The line is the soothsayer’s message to Caesar, warning of his death. The Ides of March didn’t signify anything special in itself. In Shakespeare’s day it was just the usual way of saying “March 15th.” And since each month has an Ides (often the 15th), this date wasn’t significant in being associated with death prior to 1601. But on March 15 in 44 B.C., Shakespeare’s Caesar character was assassinated and so began its history as a day to lay low. The notion of the Ides being a dangerous date was purely an invention of Shakespeare’s.

(Note: Caesar didn’t “Beware the Ides of March,” and thus met his demise to the sharpened knives of literal and figurative backstabbers — including his best friend Marcus Brutus. Et tu, Brute?)

Although the brutally murdered Roman Emperor should have heeded warnings about the cursed “Ides of March” in 44 B.C., do we modern-day commoners have any cause for concern since the Ides of March just means the 15th of a month in the Roman calendar? According to the Farmer’s Almanac, in ancient times, the Ides of March also marked the first full moon of the year, which Romans celebrated with feasts and sacrifices in honor of the god Jupiter. So, unless you were livestock, the day was relatively inauspicious.

But even though it has been 2,064 years since Caesar was assassinated in 44 B.C. people are still wary of this fateful day. And, unfortunately, there have been some other momentous events that have occurred throughout history on March 15. For example:

Between 1918 and 1955, the Ides of March marked tax day in the United States

On March 15, 1938, Nazi Germany invaded Czechoslovakia
In 1941, a blizzard killed more than 150 people in Minnesota and North Dakota

The Centers for Disease Control and the World Health Organization issued warnings for SARS, a deadly type of pneumonia, in 2003

And in the vein of a Roman revolution, protests erupted in Syria on March 15, 2011, that led to the beginning of the country’s civil war

But, some good things have been known to occur on the Ides of March, too, including: the founding of Rolls Royce in 1906, President Lyndon B.

Johnson’s call for equal voting rights in a speech to a joint Congressional session in 1965 and the premiere of The Godfather in 1972.

While we don’t know if March 15, 2020, will hold any historical or wary events, one thing is for certain: The Ides of March will bring lots of Caesar salad puns. (Reportedly, Brutus also slipped some poisonous hemlock leaves onto Julius’ salad.) But you would have to be “Mad as a March Hare” to worry about the Ides of March. What does that phrase mean? Maybe next year.

Coach blew his whistle, which brought us to a stop. His favorite conditioning exercise was to have us run on our hands and knees back and forth across the wrestling room. He started us off by blowing his whistle and ended the exercise in the same way. . . . 

We looked at available surgery dates. I wanted to get it done before Christmas so I would have more time to heal before going back to work in January. But I needed to move the harp for my daughter until December 22nd. That only left December 24th for the surgery date. I had the nurse schedule it. Later, when I met with my family, I let them know.

“Can we have Christmas on the 23rd?” my daughter asked. “If we have it on Christmas right after you have had your surgery, you will probably be grouchy. I’d rather not have my father be grouchy on Christmas.”

I told her I didn’t think I would be grouchy, but agreed to celebrate Christmas on the 23rd, anyway. It ended up being a nice day. We opened presents and then invited another daughter that lived close by to bring her family and join us when we went out to eat. We scheduled it so her husband could come from work during his lunch hour. It was fun.

The next day, as I headed to the hospital, I must admit that all I could think about was when I was 45, and my tonsils were removed. For two hours before being wheeled back, I was in a room where the broken tv could not be shut off and was locked onto a channel that played only Barney reruns.

By the time they came to get me, I was feeling like, “Just shoot me now!”
However, this time the room I was put in for surgery preparation didn’t even have a tv. I was okay with that. Many people came in to take my vitals and talk to me about recovery. Four of them asked me which shoulder was being operated on. When I told them it was my left, they marked it with a marker.

As the fourth person made his mark, I said, “Don’t you trust the other three people who marked it already?”
He laughed. “A person can never be too careful.”
After he left, I told my wife Donna to hand me a marker.
“Why?” she asked.
“I think I ought to put marks all over me just to confuse them.”

She did not think that was even funny and made sure there were no markers anywhere in the room. She said that removing my access to markers was her part of being careful.

Eventually, I was wheeled into the surgery room.

The anesthesiologist leaned over me. “It will take about ten minutes for you to fade off to sleep.”

Ten minutes, nothing. I was out almost instantly after he said it, and if I said anything past that point, I want to make it clear that I can’t legally be held responsible for it. The next thing I remember was having someone patting me, calling me by name, and asking me how I was doing.

“Did you get the number?” I groggily replied.
“Of what?” she asked.
“Of the license plate of the truck that hit me.”
I heard my wife laugh. “I think he’s going to be fine.”

And I’m not admitting that I was grouchy. But my daughter was probably smart to have had us celebrate Christmas on the 23rd.

And the bullet? Well, it remains in my arm as a souvenir of some exciting day from my youth. I just wish I could remember which day.

In times of rapid change, it’s only human to seek a foothold. We look homeward. We forge deeper connections with our families, friends, and neighbors. No wonder so many of us are looking to revitalize and reinvent our communities.

Thomas Friedman addresses this subject in Thank You for Being Late. He quotes from a ballad by Brandi Carlile, “You can dance in a hurricane, but only if you’re standing in the eye.” The “eye” in this context is the local community. They provide a firm place to stand and find stability while all this change is swirling around us.

I agree with Friedman. In the midst of uncertainty and chaos, strong, functioning communities make us feel grounded, safe, and empowered. And it all begins with a vibrant downtown filled with thriving businesses; lots of places to eat, drink, and socialize; and plenty of fun things to do. Downtown is the living, breathing heart and soul of any healthy community.

In my work with cities, towns, and communities on revitalization efforts across the U.S., I’ve seen it firsthand: Downtowns are making a huge comeback. I’ve walked up and down many Main Streets with many leaders and citizens. I’ve seen “ghost town” areas slowly come back to life with the help of a vibrant downtown. And what I’ve come to believe is that Main Street is more than a collection of restaurants, shops, apartments, and office buildings. Main Street is our salvation. When we can get this piece right, it can change lives for the better.

To build a stronger America, we need to invest in our communities. We need to empower entrepreneurs, build a strong local business presence, and make sure leaders are well trained so they can succeed long-term. We need to improve our education systems. We need to improve civic IQs and get citizens engaged and excited. We need to change the conversation about what our communities can become. And—this is essential—we need to start by creating vibrant, walkable downtowns and thriving Main Streets. Here’s why:

Investing in Main Street encourages entrepreneurship and creates more small businesses. According to the U.S. Small Business Administration, small businesses create two out of every three net new jobs in the private sector. Plus, over half of all Americans own or work for a small business. Small business is the engine that powers communities.

When a business community is strong, its leaders can be galvanized to solve problems. These are the smart, influential people Jim Clifton, author of The Coming Jobs War, calls “tribal leaders.” They have social capital and know how to get things done. Plus, they have a personal interest in the community’s well-being.

It keeps young people at home and attracts talent. More and more young people are choosing small towns (for various reasons). This creates a great talent pool, which makes smaller towns attractive for entrepreneurs and all types of business investors.

It reconnects us on a human level. In a dehumanized age when so many people feel isolated, this factor is really important. Walkable main streets and good downtown programming bring people together. Trading face-to-face keeps the human interaction. This is a critical factor in creating a strong sense of community.

People see they really do have the power to change things. Once you get a few quick wins, the conversation changes. Citizens see it’s up to them (not government) to reinvent themselves. They suddenly get more optimistic and confident. They get more civic-minded and connected to one another. There’s a growing sense that we’re all in this together.

It makes us better people. Coming together as a community makes us more inclusive, more compassionate. Our neighbors’ problems become our problems. We’re more willing to give our time and resources to make the community better.

We need to invest in our Main Streets, downtowns, and communities because it’s where life happens. It’s where we work, play, laugh, cry, love, meet new friends, learn, and create. It’s home. And we have a human responsibility to make our home the best it can be—not just for ourselves and our families but also the friends and neighbors who live there too.

Quint Studer is author of Building a Vibrant Community. He is founder of Pensacola’s Studer Community Institute, a nonprofit organization focused on improving the community’s quality of life, and Vibrant Community Partners, which coaches communities in building out a blueprint for achieving growth and excellence.

For those of us in the Midwest hoping for an early spring, it looks like you may be out of luck despite what Groundhog Punxsutawney Phil has to say on Feb. 2. Chilly conditions are expected to continue for areas east of the Rockies as we head into February. And, according to the Weather Company’s Chief Meteorologist Dr. Todd Crawford, “We originally expected a spell of much warmer temperatures during late January, but it now appears that this will not occur, as another cold spell will set in as we head into February.”

So, if you’re stuck in the cold, dark recesses of your home, keep in mind that February is “Creative Romance Month” and “Great American Pie Month.”

(Take your choice!) In addition, here’s some daily bizarre and unique February holidays from www.holidayinsights.com (with a few added editorial comments by yours truly in parenthesis) you can use to celebrate each day just to brighten up your existence:

Feb. 1 – Eat Ice Cream for Breakfast Day (try it, you may like it; there’s probably a bacon flavor)
Feb. 2 – Groundhog Day (“The Shadow knows!”) (It’s also Super Bowl LIV in Miami)
Feb. 3 – Feed the Birds Day (good to do every day)
Feb. 4 – Thank a Mailman Day (make that “Mail Carrier” to be gender correct!)
Feb. 5 – National Weatherman’s Day (again, let’s call it Weather Forecaster’s instead)
Feb. 6 – National Chopsticks Day (might take the day to learn how to use them)
Feb. 7 – Send a Card to a Friend Day (obviously created by a card company)
Feb. 8 – Kite Flying Day (in the middle of winter?)
Feb. 9 – National Pizza Day and Toothache Day (your choice)
Feb. 10 – Clean out Your Computer Day (not sure how to do that!)
Feb. 11 – Make a Friend Day (good advice)
Feb. 12 – Abraham Lincoln’s Birthday (we used to get the day off from work)
Feb. 13 – Get a Different Name Day (unless you like your given name)
Feb. 14 – Valentine’s Day and Ferris Wheel Day (again, in the middle of winter?)
Feb. 15 – National Gum Drop Day (should have been paired with Toothache Day)
Feb. 16 – Do a Grouch a Favor Day (ought to keep us busy)
Feb. 17 – Random Acts of Kindness Day and President’s Day (some do get the day off)
Feb. 18 – National Drink Wine Day (finally!)
Feb. 19 – National Chocolate Mint Day (to cover up the alcohol on your breath?)
Feb. 20 – Love Your Pet Day and Cherry Pie Day (you can choose both)
Feb. 21 – Card Reading Day (if you remembered to thank the Mail Carrier on Feb. 4)
Feb. 22 – George Washington’s Birthday (used to get this day off, too)
Feb. 23 – Oscar Night (date varies)
Feb. 24 – National Tortilla Chip Day (add your favorite sauce)
Feb. 25 – Mardi Gras/Fat Tuesday Day (date varies)
Feb. 26 – National Pistachio Day (nuts to that!)
Feb. 27 – No Brainer Day (everyone’s invited)
Feb. 28 – Public Sleeping Day (if you can find a warm, private spot)
Feb. 29 – Leap Year (discover a way to celebrate, especially if it’s your birthday!)

A final word about February: The name of the month is derived from the Latin word “februs” meaning, “to cleanse.” The month was named after the Roman Festival, Februalia, a month-long festival of purification and atonement involving offerings to the gods, prayer and sacrifices. If you were a wealthy Roman who didn’t have to go out and work, you could literally spend the entire month of February in prayer and meditation, atoning for your misdeeds during the other eleven months of the year.

Doesn’t sound nearly as fun as celebrating the above wacky days of February.