My Aunt Sherrie was one of those few people in my life who always made me feel loved. To this day, her smile and laughter lights up a room. As wonderful as Aunt Sherrie’s love is, though, she has another gift that almost equals it  ~ the wonders that come from her imagination.  She was the one, you see, who first taught me that the Groundhog really loves chewing gum!

  That probably needs some explanation.  When my sister and I were young, my parents divorced, and every time my father came to town, we’d go to our grandparents’ farm.  One year, for reasons that escape me, we were at the farm on Groundhog’s Day. (Aunt Sherrie and my uncle lived next door with our cousins, so we were able to visit and play at either house.)  We woke up that February 2nd as usual, pulled on our robes ~ because that farmhouse in the winter was colder than this farmhouse is! ~ and went downstairs to the kitchen. Aunt Sherrie was there already, and when she asked us if the Groundhog had visited us during the night, my sister and I probably had the blankest looks on our faces we’d ever had. What Groundhog? Why would a groundhog be in our bedroom?  Oh NO! IS there a groundhog in our bedroom?!?!?!? 

I’m sure she just smiled at us and suggested we go look under our beds, but all I remember is flying up those stairs to see a groundhog. What we found was even better ~ candy! We each had a baggie tied with colorful ribbons and filled with chewing gum and hard candies. That’s when I learned that the Groundhog loves to chew gum.

The memory makes me smile, and while I’d love to say that I passed the “holiday” down to my son as he grew up, I didn’t. I did, though, understand the impulse to create a special moment at that point in the year. January is long in southwest Michigan, filled with gray skies and lake-effect snow. Christmas is long over and Easter far away. Spring seems like a myth, quite frankly, and somehow, marking the “half-way” point of winter helps keep us going. 

I don’t know if Aunt Sherrie was deliberately following the centuries-long tradition of St. Bride riding with a wreath of lit candles on her head, the American tradition of Punxsutawney Phil being pulled into the spotlights for photo-ops, or simply following a path of her own for children she loved, but for all of us, she embraced a celebration to help us mark the middle of winter. And while we can’t run barefoot in the grass just yet, we can chew on a piece of gum and trust that soon, very soon, we’ll be able to.

Thanks, Aunt Sherrie!