GROUNDHOG DAY

Last week was Groundhog Day. I don’t remember what the rodent’s predictions were, but I do know that LeBron James saw his shadow and that there will be six more weeks of basketball.

Bill Murray starred in the 1993 fantasy comedy, Groundhog Day. It depicted a cynical TV weatherman who found himself reliving the same day over again and again when he went to Punxsutawney, PA, to film a report about their annual Groundhog Day. You either loved the movie or you hated it. My father hated it.

MK's mother and my father had many things in common and dated each other after their spouses died. On one of their many dates, they went to see Groundhog Day, the movie. MK and I had just seen it and thought that they might enjoy it. Not so. As they later told us, they started watching the movie with a positive attitude, but soon became confused. Somehow they failed to grasp the nuances of the script when Bill Murray faced the plight of reliving the same day over and over again. The only variation was Bill Murray's reaction to each day. My father became increasingly impatient. He turned to MK’s mother and complained that they had already seen that part and he thought they were re-starting the movie over and over again. The more Bill Murray's daily frustration was repeated onscreen, the more my father became confused and angry. This was the only time my father ever walked out of a movie. He apologized to MK's mother and promised to take her to a "good" movie. Afterward, he complained to us about Groundhog Day for weeks, which was unlike him. He usually had a short fuse -- bang! It was over after a few mild but colorful military-mixed-medical metaphors. However, in this case, he just couldn't let it go, ruminating about Groundhog Day until he finally went to see the fishing movie he had heard about. Over the years, MK watched my father's occasional outbursts and came to understand some of my own behavior. Nowadays she sums it all up by saying that I am a cute little fuzzball with a short fuse. Moi? I know a thing or two about older men with short fuses, having been a urologist for over 40 years. I find her description to be personally offensive -- accurate, but offensive. After some discussion, we have come to an understanding. She is not going to talk about my short little fuse and I am not going to talk about any of her inadequacies that I can't seem to remember at this time.

When the "senior citizen lovebirds" finally went to see A River Runs Through It, they thought it was about trout fishing in Montana. Afterward, my father just purred. He talked forever about the beautiful scenery and the fact that the movie was actually filmed near Island Park. I did not challenge his opinion and was quite happy that they enjoyed his "fishing" movie. Long ago, I made the decision to never patronize my father but I made an exception in this instance -- the truth would have burst his bubble. His remaining days were filled with warm memories of being with a dear friend, watching a beautiful movie about trout fishing, rather than worrying about what two overly handsome young men were doing alone together in Montana besides catching fish.

Ever vigilant,

RT