The BO Secretary Has BO

This is a true account of one (and sadly, somewhat typical) morning in my life.

Background knowledge: When you work for the Federal Government, you have to be prepared to use an acronym for any term or title which encompasses more than one word. Sometimes this makes little sense as the acronym is occasionally harder to say than the full term. Sometimes it can end up being a little humorous or even risqué. Recently the VA Medical Center, where I work, had the need to backfill the Business Office Secretary position. Being a government job, the position is commonly known as the BO secretary.

7:31:00 AM – Try to balance piece of toast (breakfast) on top of car keys, bag and coat

7:31:10 AM – Kiss wife goodbye as daughter no. #2 has conniption about daughter no. #1 moving at snail's pace

7:31:20 AM – Discover that car windows have frosted over during the night – can't find scraper

7:31:25 AM – Scrape window with toast. Hey, it's warm; but not for long

7:31:30 AM – Listen to daughter no. #2 complain that she is going to be late

7:31:35 AM – Listen to daughters bicker over leaving late

7:31:36 AM – Wonder why God caused there to be a "teenage period" between cute and adult

7:31:45 AM – Roll down both windows and use wiper fluid to cut through frost for visibility

7:32:00 AM – Pray that nobody is coming fast when we back out onto the road

7:33:00 AM – Pull out onto W. 38^th St. – AKA "aggressive driving zone."

7:33:03 AM – Car stutters and starts to shake

7:33:05 AM – Turn into assisted living home parking lot

7:33:10 AM – Listen to misfiring and pinging of engine

7:33:15 AM – Figure out the vehicle is out of gas

7:33:20 AM – Sure realization that gas station is too far to make it

7:33:23 AM – Sure realization that to stall out on 38^th St is to invite abuse and scorn from fellow travelers

7:33:25 AM – Recollect that there is a gas can in the garage with about a gallon of gas in it.
7:33:26 AM – Recollect that oldest son is not home and has the second car
7:33:27 AM – Vehicle is popping and gasping for petro

7:33:28 AM – Frantic wish to make it as close to home as possible before inevitable

7:33:30 AM – Cross 38^th street into church parking lot
7:33:33 AM – Vehicle dies completely

7:33:40 AM – Start recriminating comments towards teenage daughters who went out in the vehicle the previous night

7:34:25 AM – Point out that they put no fuel in car even though it read less than 1/8 of tank when they took the car
7:34:30 AM – Tell girls that they can either stay in the car until I get back or walk to school
7:34:30½ AM – They opt to stay with the car.  Why walk?
7:35:00 AM – Start to walk down Colonial to house
7:36:00 AM – School Bus blows black smoke at me as it passes

7:40:00 AM – Starting to break a sweat.  Should have left heavy winter coat in car

7:45:00 AM – How far is half a mile anyway?  
7:45:15 AM – Go through front door
7:45:20 AM – In one of life's small miracles, I actually find the gas can and yes, there is gas in it
7:45:45 AM – Start back for car
7:45:50 AM – Catch glances of every driver checking out my gas can trot.  Nobody stops to offer ride
7:45:50 AM – This walk is farther than I thought it was
7:50:00 AM – My legs are starting to feel it, involuntarily start to slow down
7:55:00 AM – One block to go.  Can I just sit here for a minute?
7:56:00 AM – Turn corner and see van rocking back and forth.  Bass sounds trumping out of vehicle

7:57:00 AM – Pour gasoline into gas tank very slowly.  I don't need gasoline stinky shoes for work

7:57:30 AM – I'm wet.  I'm wiping sweat out of my eyes while pouring gasoline.  It's a good life
7:58:00 AM – Turn key to start car.  Nothing.  Try again.  Oh great!  Maybe there wasn't enough gas in the can
7:59:00 AM – Start to worry.  The gas station is another mile in the other direction.  Wonder if anybody would miss me if I walked into traffic
7:59:15 AM – The Fates decide have toyed with me long enough.  The car roars to life.  Off we go
8:01:00 AM – Drop girls off at McDowell
8:01:30 AM – Quickly pump $5 at Country Fair

8:03:00 AM – Zoom onto roadway.  Traffic congestion is lighter.  The 8 AMers are already at work

8:04:00 AM – Absent-mindedly pick up toast and take a big bite
8:04:01 AM – Realize mistake – yuck! Gag on a wet, soggy mess
8:04:05 AM – Wonder if rolling down window and spitting out food is polluting?
8:04:30 AM – Man up and swallow hard
8:06:00 AM – Discover that there are two more 15 mph school zones to traverse after 8 AM
8:10:00 AM – Oh boy!
8:15:00 AM – Consider racing around all traffic at Glenwood Park merge.  It would make me hated but I'm ready for a fight
8:15:30 AM – Consider how getting arrested would go over with supervisors

8:16:00 AM – Crawl up hill behind green pickup blowing black smoke at me.  Have sense of Déjà vu

8:20:00 AM – Pull into parking lot, slam into spot and enter building within 60 seconds
8:22:00 AM – Standing in Darlene's office explaining I'm late.  She's totally bewildered
8:23:00 AM – She gives me 59 minute rule.  No need to dock pay, I'm not habitually late
8:23:15 AM – Really glad that this supervisor never talked to my last supervisor
8:25:00 AM – Arrive at work station.  Colleagues are currently not in; Sheryll gone to meeting, Mike to morning standup
8:26:00 AM – What is that smell?  Oh yeah, that's me

9:00:00 AM – Mike comes back.  We shoot breeze.  I tell him I was 20 late.  He waves it off.  That's fine.  No big deal

9:15:00 AM – Darlene comes in with Sheryll.  Darlene tells Sheryll that she gave me 59 minute (more like 20 minute) rule
9:15:15 AM – Sheryll shrugs.  She didn't even know I wasn't here
9:30:00 AM – HR sends out a new All-employee Message. They are reposting the BO Secretary spot
9:31:00 AM – I sniff my shirt.  BO secretary, huh?  I should make quals.  I may even be overqualified
9:33:00 AM – Wonder what I could qualify for if I ate a big bowl of chili?

Paul Krugman Officially Simplest Nobel Laureate In History

Shared from Suitably Flip

Via The Corner, James Taranto finds something quizzical in today's insufferable lecture on unemployment policy from the gray lady's most special economist.

Former Enron adviser Paul Krugman takes note in his New York Times column of what he calls "the incredible gap that has opened up between the parties":

Today, Democrats and Republicans live in different universes, both intellectually and morally.

"What Democrats believe," he says "is what textbook economics says":

But that's not how Republicans see it. Here's what Senator Jon Kyl of Arizona, the second-ranking Republican in the Senate, had to say when defending Mr. Bunning's position (although not joining his blockade): unemployment relief "doesn't create new jobs. In fact, if anything, continuing to pay people unemployment compensation is a disincentive for them to seek new work."

Krugman scoffs: "To me, that's a bizarre point of view--but then, I don't live in Mr. Kyl's universe."

What does textbook economics have to say about this question? Here is a passage from a textbook called "Macroeconomics":

Public policy designed to help workers who lose their jobs can lead to structural unemployment as an unintended side effect. . . . In other countries, particularly in Europe, benefits are more generous and last longer. The drawback to this generosity is that it reduces a worker's incentive to quickly find a new job. Generous unemployment benefits in some European countries are widely believed to be one of the main causes of "Eurosclerosis," the persistent high unemployment that affects a number of European countries.

So it turns out that what Krugman calls Sen. Kyl's "bizarre point of view" is, in fact, textbook economics. The authors of that textbook are Paul Krugman and Robin Wells. Miss Wells is also known as Mrs. Paul Krugman.

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News at 11:00, Opinion at 11:01

Have you ever listened to the news and just said WHAT?

I just heard a peppy female caster proclaim good news for the economy.  She reports that this is the third straight month that there has been a gain in manufacturing hiring.  Then comes the sound bite; a gravelly voiced economist saying there has been an increase in job openings for manufacturing positions, BUT unfortunately it has not kept pace with manufacturing jobs losses.  The giddy cheerleader voice returns to say that economic indicators prove that the US economy has rounded a corner and is on the rebound.  Isn't that like an oncologist telling you he has good news – they are killing more lung cancer cells than ever, unfortunately the cancer has metastasized to all parts of your body and is growing faster than they can keep up.  But hey, we've turned a corner here. 

Last week The Globe reported that there are serious flaws with the data collection of global temperatures in regard to Global Warming.  Scientists admit that sea levels have not risen as computer projections forecast.  The lead IPCC scientist admitted that there has been no significant rise of temperature in the last 15 years.  The rest of the article dealt with the danger the earth is in if we don't act now (it may be too late already) and how some people refuse to accept the reality of global warming even with the mountain of evidence staring us in the face – which, by the way, only science professions can understand.  The article was oblivious to its own contradictions.

Today Barak Obama extended the Patriot Act for another year.  DEMOCRATS called it a necessary step for security.   It was reported matter-of-factly.  Two years ago democrats were calling it the biggest civil rights travesty in US History.   George Bush had to go - Iraq, Guantanamo Bay, Patriot Act, Afghanistan – he was a national embarrassment.  He was alternately the devil incarnate or the stupidest man on earth.  As of March 2010, the smartest man on the planet has done nothing about Gitmo, decided to stay in Iraq, increased troop levels in Afghanistan and today extended the Patriot Act.  All these things are okay now.  I mean the situation on the ground is dire. 

Full disclosure, I am neither republican nor democrat and my leanings are more libertarian with a shade of cultural conservativism.  I think Glenn Beck can be a big fat jerk, but he should get a Pulitzer for some of the stories he broke last year.  FOX leans right, NPR leans left and CNN is somewhere out in its own little self-congratulatory universe.  And if there is a court fool it is Keith Olberman.  Though Rachel Madow consistently proves she is not even up to par for her own show.  And not one of them can tell us what is really going on without interjecting biased commentary into the news report.  Okay, so Beck, Olberman, et al, are commentators and can be excused but you know what I mean.  It's their job to look at the news and spin it to their views. And they are paid well for it. It's the actual reporting full of  (not so) hidden commentary that I object to. Just tell me what is going on. Period. Don't analyze it for me. If I want it analyzed I know when Blitzer, O'Reilly and Matthews are on.

I took ONE – just ONE journalism class in college.  It didn't take long, as I listened to their conversations, to realize that the majors in the class were there because they wanted to change the world.  One time I not-so-slyly pointed out that the PoliSci building was on the other side of campus.  It didn't go over well.  They didn't want to be Woodward and Bernstein.  They wanted to be Perez Hilton and slam conservative Christian beauty pageant contestants and expose the bigotry of the right. I sat in many classes just amazed as lessons and arguments against propaganda and prejudice were nothing more than tirades and rants filled with propaganda and prejudice. To paraphrase Jack Nicholson in a Few Good Men, objectivity was used for a punch line in a joke.

I miss Cronkite. Remember Uncle Walter? It shocked people to find out how liberal his political views were revealed to be after he retired. Nobody knew. Today, we know.  No surprise, but most reporters vote democrat in elections.  We're supposed to believe that any such sharply skewed group even knows what a balanced view is?  Granted, news can be biased because reporters are often lazy and use only the most convenient sources, i.e. government spokesman, PR consultants, etc. but today there is the decision to seek out the more progressive viewpoint, to find alternate interests and to include other societal demographics. These viewpoints usually are not relevant to the facts of the story. But in the interest of "diversity" and "fairness" we are righting the inequalities of the past in the newsrooms of today.

Back in the days of America Past you knew the bias of a newspaper when you picked it up.  Editorial ownership guided the whole tone of the reporting.  Today they all pretend that they are unbiased, impartial, fair and balanced.  Bull.  The Wall Street Journal has the most liberal reporting in the nation – but they hide it by staffing the most conservative editorial board.  The New York Times often has fair reporting but Marx and Lenin would feel comfortable on its Ed Board.  Sometimes you don't know what you're getting.  But sometimes you do.  And you realize that the cheerleading peppy voice on the 3 PM newscast has no idea that she just contradicted herself.

Top 10 Signs You’ve Made it onto the Obama Enemies List

Recent attempts by the Obama Administration to silence conservative Fox News have led opponents to accuse it of compiling an “Enemies List.” Find out whether YOU’RE on it by reading

The Top 10 Signs You’ve Made it onto the Obama Enemy’s List!

10. Someone carved “Change You Can Key-lieve In” onto the side of your car.

9. That guy who tried to run you off the road looked suspiciously like Joe Biden.

8. Liberal media gives extensive coverage to that backstabbing, Playgirl-posing hick who knocked up your daughter.

7. After your house mysteriously burns down, the IRS orders you to pay a new $50,000 “House Destroyed by Fire Tax.”

6. You hear a burst of laughter from the suspicious AT&T van across the street during your phone call to the urologist.

5. Obama Girl cuts a new YouTube song mocking your kitten’s diabetes.

4. You spot Chris Matthews and Keith Olbermann sifting through your garbage.

3. Military drones keep bombing your mailbox.

2. New York Times runs daily front page editorials bashing your past links to the Salvation Army.

1. He gives the Vice Presidency to a gaffe-prone loudmouth and makes you Secretary of State.

Source The Wacky Deli (The funniest blog on the web)

The Death of the Monarchy

It happened last night.  I was trying to scan family pictures into the computer.  Michelle had other ideas about what to do with the scanner.  But then again, she always has other ideas.  I suppose we could blame her seventeen-month old brain.  Things are just more fun when you can bang on them, throw them, crawl on them and swing from them.  She has learned this because she is the baby of the family.  Eight people live here that are older than she is but she is the undisputed ruler of the household.  She is and, emphatically stated by  my wife, will always be, the baby in the family. Michelle knows how to get her way.  She has it all worked out. Until last night, that is.

Michelle loves electronics – cell phones, iPods, remote controls, the keyboard and the mouse, she lives for it. Last night Michelle decided that she really liked the scanner and decided that she wanted to help me.  This was problematic because she wanted to slap the glass and put fingerprints on it.  And she liked to bend the photos.  And she was pushing all the scanner buttons. Basically she was being a baby.  I got her on the other side of the scanner where she couldn't reach, so Michelle decided that she really liked the USB cable and started hanging on it.  And that is absolutely the best thing that you can do to end the life of a USB port. 

  

     "Michelle, stop!"

     Giggle, giggle, giggle.

     "Chellie!  Stop it.  Let go!  Let go!  You're going to break it!"

  

She thought it was a great game, and just look at the reaction she was getting out of daddy. I couldn't get it out of her fingers. She just grasped the cord harder and tried to hold it out of my reach. Normally that isn't a problem because she is seventeen months and not very tall. But now she was on the other side of the scanner and she actually had a reach advantage, or rather an out-of-reach advantage. She held the cord back at me to tease. She is really good at teasing. Just ask her four year old brother. But now she had made a fatal mistake. She was back in reach. Then an incident occurred which will live on in infamy in Doray family history. The Queen was accosted.  I slapped her fingers.  "Michelle, stop! Let go, now!"  I pried the cord from her super-strength baby fingers.

  

There was a quick moment as a look of total shock went across her face.  "What did you just do to me? I don't understand, how could you just hurt me like that?"  Then the tears began to well up in her eyes and she intoned the most pitiful mourn of all time.  Her world had just collapsed on itself. Innocence lost. Every eye in the room turned away from American Idol to me. The girls went into mama tigress mode. Glares present, you could sense the tension. Michael seeing his baby sister wailing started to cry, "Oh poor A-chelle, poor A-chelle, I sorry A-chelle, I sorry." Tears were running down his face. Now Michael was upset. He is Stephanie's favorite, her Shortie. Her eyes blazed. Gailyn tried to explain to him that sometimes mommies and daddies have to make their children mind them. He wasn't convinced that his baby sister should be subject to this rule. And from recent experience I'm positive that he isn't really familiar with the rule in regard to himself.

For Michelle's part, I can tell that she has inherited my genetic tendencies; she knows how to hold a grudge. Later on I tried to play with her. She gave me a smile then remembered that I had assaulted her royal person. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened and she turned her head with an audible "hmmph." And she refused to look at me the rest of the night. If I tried to get in her line of vision she simply turned her head. I tried to make a game of it, play peek-a-boo, something. She wasn't playing any fun games with me. A lollipop was accepted but the giver not acknowledged. Hmmph!

When American Idol was over, the girls (and I mean the teenagers, 18 and 17 years old) got up and left the room without even a look in my direction. But I had the right, didn't I? I am her father. And this is my house. And after all, a man's home is his castle, right? That should make me the king. I guess not so much. Those days are over. At the very least I am currently a tyrant who must be endured. But again, these are my progeny; they may decide that they don't need to suffer my rule at all. I believe that an insurrection may have been incepted last night. I am looking for the diagrams plotting out the scheme. I checked all the nooks and crannies for pitchforks and torches – but they're pretty devious. I'm sure I won't see it when it comes.

So here I am. The girls haven't really talked to me since the incident of February 2010 as I'm sure it will come to be known. Well, except for Michelle. She has granted me special pardon. I can feed her goodies but I can't hold her yet. A coup d'état happened when I wasn't looking. The king is in the doghouse. And Michelle is back on her pedestal, loved and cherished by all. Down with the King! Long live the Queen!

Creepiest Commercial of the Super Bowl; Funniest, too.

Punxsutawney Polamalu sees his shadow!

Groundhog Day

In 1978, my United States Marine father was assigned a 13 month tour of duty in Okinawa.  Family was not going to accompany him on this detail.  So Mom had to find a place to live with her six children until he came back.  The logical solution was to move back to Pennsylvania, so we could be close to mom's side of the family.  Her relatives mostly lived in Indiana County, Pennsylvania.  Letting the housing market and common sense prevail -"live close, but not too close"; we ended up living in Punxsutawney (Jefferson County). 

Punxsutawney was the epitome of a western Pennsylvania borough.  Punxsutawney was settled by that usual western PA settler mix of English and German that came for the land and stayed because of the mines.  Lumbering was another big industry, but those laborers (several of my ancestors among them) followed the work and migrated from county to county.  Mining, farming and lumbering, the genetic stock was hardy and tough.  In 1979, common entertainment in Punxsutawney was getting drunk, fighting and racing your vehicle at breakneck speeds until somebody lost it all against a railroad overpass abutment.  My father said that Punxsy reminded him of the '50s.  I think he liked that.

The name Punxsutawney derives from the Delaware Indians.  Ponksaduteney translates to "town of the sand flies."  According to legend an evil Indian sorcerer was defeated in battle there by a hero chief.  To eradicate his black magic, the body was consumed by fire.  Instead of ashes rising out of the pyre, glowing sand flies arose and drove out the local inhabitants with burning bites.  In 1978, the public pool and the outdoor basketball and tennis courts were located along the creek and in the evening we would sit on the dike along Mahoning Creek and swat the swarms of gnats or "ponks" as we called them.  It wasn't hard to see how the legend sprang up.

The Indians also left the legend of the grandfather who first inhabited the area.  He was the wuchak.  According to the creation legends, the first people were created in the form of animals and later became the people of the land.  The wuchak was the original father of those who lived there.  The wuchak was a groundhog.  This legend gave rise to the common usage of the word "woodchuck." 

In Gaelic folklore, the Cailleach — a divine ancestral being — rules the winter months.  Brighde (Brigit) is her counterpart who rules the summer.  When the Cailleach wants to extend her rule for a longer time period she makes February 1^st (Imbolc) a bright and sunny day so she can gather firewood for the rest of the winter.  Gaelic people could rest easy if Imbolc was foul weather day.  It meant that the Cailleach had no intention of extending winter and therefore spring would soon be here.  Conversely, if the sun is out and you can see your shadow on Imbolc enjoy it, but keep the heavy cloak handy; you're going to need it for six more weeks.

Somehow, Imbolc and Candlemas (the day the infant Jesus was presented as a firstborn and Mary purified herself at the temple 40 days after the birth) got rolled into one.  Imbolc is called the Feast of St. Brigit.  Yes, that is the same Brighde mentioned above.  Brighde is summer and life, Cailleach gets the bad rep as she is winter and death.  St. Brigit is the patron saint of midwives.  She represents birth, spring, new life, all that nice kind of stuff.  Folklore, pagan and Christian, mixed into a celebration of spring and new beginning.  Weather prognostication was a big part of that celebration and the people had their own natural almanacs to determine the long-term forecast.  Italians watched wolves' hibernation patterns, the Scottish watched for snakes in snow, the French looked for prosperity in flipped crepes, and the Germanic people watched ground squirrels.   

How natural then, that the Pennsylvania Dutch who settled the area brought the Imbolc/Candlemas groundhog legend with them when they settled in Ponksaduteney.   Of course, they didn't honor the groundhog himself as the great grandfather of Indian lore.  The pesky rodent tore up crops, got into supplies, and over reproduced himself.  So the people of Punxsutawney hunted him just like any other game animal.

It is said that in the summer of 1887 a group of local hunters and gourmets held a groundhog hunt and picnic and celebrated the event by barbequing their game and washing it down with locally brewed beer. The city editor of the Punxsutawney Spirit newspaper was a man named Clymer Freas. Inspired by the hunt, the fellowship or the beer, he dubbed the picnickers the "Punxsutawney Groundhog Club". He recalled the Pennsylvania Dutch legend of the groundhog as a weather prophet and claimed for the Punxsutawney Groundhog all weather rights. He created a home for him on Gobbler's Knob and a fame that is now worldwide. 

(Marc Weimer, History of Punxsutawney, http://users.penn.com/~mweimer/history.html)

William Orlando Smith, congressman and editor of the Spirit, promoted Freas' tongue-in-cheek editorial.  An event grew, it was publicized, and it became a local holiday.  Smith's successors carried on the tradition – adding top hats and cutaway coats and using flowery language as they proclaimed the forecasts of Punxsutawney Phil, Seer of Seers, Sage of Sages, Prognosticator of Prognosticators and Weather Prophet Extraordinary.  People came from far and wide to observe the event.  The locals attended too.  It was an excuse to get drunk, fight and drive really fast. 

The famous location of the proclamation is Gobbler's Knob.  Known to locals as The Knob, it quaintly sits on a parcel of land close to where Woodland Avenue and Elderberry Hill Road meet.  Again, I know this location well.  The LDS Chapel where we attended was built on Gobbler's Knob.  The whole ceremony of February 2^nd took place on the church grounds.  The local bishop said that when they were looking for a place to construct the church they were approached by Sam Light, then President of the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club.  Light said that he knew the Mormons were looking for a place to build, he had seen other Mormon structures including some of the temples, and he would be pleased if the Latter-day Saints would consider Gobbler's Knob as a suitable location.  Light was sure that the church would do justice to that piece of land, the only caveat being that the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club and the Groundhog Day festivities continue as they always had.  This was a win-win for the church; a prime location AND lots of non-members coming to their chapel.  The chapel was built, the landscape was cleared and beautified, and for years the people of the world showed up at a Mormon church to see a groundhog continue a pagan practice on a Christian holiday.  Who says America isn't the Great Melting-Pot? 

The morning of February 2^nd saw the parking lot fill up fast.  Buses shuttled people up from Front Street and the big parking lot at the Buffalo & Pittsburgh railroad yard.  Hot chocolate and donuts were served in the church; coffee was served in the parking lot, and people brought coolers of beer or mugs of Irish coffee.  The aftermath would be a bunch of tee-totaling Mormons cleaning up beer cans and liquor bottles for hours.  But in the early morning light, it was a party.  People shifted from foot to foot to stay warm while meeting up with old friends.  The inner circle of the Club showed up with pomp and fanfare, speeches were made; a sleepy groundhog was pulled out of a cage in a hollow stump.  The President of the Club called the assembly to silence as he let Phil whisper the forecast in his ear.  2010 went like this:

Hear Ye, Hear Ye, Hear Ye:

     On Gobbler's Knob on this glorious Groundhog Day, February 2nd, 2010, Punxsutawney Phil, Seer of Seers, Prognosticator of all Prognosticators awoke to the call of President Bill Deeley and greeted his handlers, John Griffiths and Ben Hughes.

     After casting a joyful eye towards thousands of his faithful followers, Phil proclaimed, "If you want to know next, you must read my text. As the sky shines bright above me, my shadow I see beside me. So six more weeks of winter it will be."

Just like in 1979, the people gathered in that place suspend disbelief as they react to the news.  The crowd cheers or moans depending on the forecast of winter yet to come.  And then fireworks go off and music plays.  There is no use wasting the occasion even if the news isn't what it was hoped to be.  Kids get the day off from school.  Businesses in town open only after the party is over.  The record of winter vs early spring now stands (since 1887) at:
 Shadow         99
 NO Shadow   15
 no record        9

The rest of the time Punxsutawney Phil lives in the Public Library with his wife, Phyllis.  All the local kids know his exhibit/home well.  It is right down in the children's book section and there are certain times when Phil's handler will take him out and let the patrons pet the famous rodent.  When we lived in Punxsy, I spent a lot of time at the library.  We happened to live there when there were a number of baby groundhogs wandering around the various transparent tunnels that made up the burrow.  I have no idea how many Phils there have been over the years, but I can assure anybody that the 1978 version of Punxsutawney Phil loved people.  He would come right up to the glass or snuggle under your hand.  People meant attention, affection and food; filling all the needs in the hierarchy to make a nice little self-actualized hedgehog.

I lived for 14 months in Punxsutawney.  I'm not planning to move back, but it was fun while we lived there.  Childhood still had magic and the small-town feel contributed to the angst and excitement typical of coming of age that passes in the early high school years.  I can remember the Punxsy streets well as I recall my life stories from those days; even if the movie Groundhog Day was filmed… in Illinois.