We all love our silly little traditions and their accompanying rituals. A friend from Junior High (way back before it became “Middle School”), told me that if you said rabbit rabbit rabbit before you uttered any other thing (including *ahem* or AH-choo!), on the first day of every month, it would bring you luck. I have done that faithfully ever since for nearly 50 years. As far as I know, it’s effective, because luck can be good - or bad ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.
Groundhog Day has a long history which you are more than welcome to research beyond foremost scholars Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell, but that wasn’t really the gist of my February 2 strip. I was making two points: Six more weeks of winter?! From February?! In New Hampshire? You’re joking, mate. We wore parkas in June.
The second was that Ro routinely lectured our elementary-aged children about taxes: federal, property, sales, income, sin – and how New Hampshire, compared to our former home, Connecticut, was a haven of good sense with regard to gross income minus allowable reductions and expenses that can be deducted even if the taxpayer does not itemize deductions when the IRS examines and verifies your return or any other transaction with tax consequences that the taxpayer expects to owe in taxes over the course of the year, generally paid quarterly with voucher reduction of income that would otherwise be taxed*.
From the distance of time, it’s easy to look back on some of the harebrained rituals we cherish and blush at a bit: God love ‘em, I’ve never understood Morris Dancers, but respect for carrying on looking ridiculous since the 15th Century. That’s commitment. Also, I’d love to see some movie production company give them the “Groundhog Day” treatment. They’ve earned it.
*This is literally taken off a New Hampshire tax info website, and it’s only one tiny section. If you’re going to have a look, you might want to say rabbit rabbit rabbit first.
We all have stories about parent lectures. If I asked my Dad for a quarter I had to sit through his lecture of growing up in Nebraska during the depression and picking dandelions for ten cents an hour. It was so sad I imagined giving him a quarter. Good job. Very enjoyable.