Groundhog Day

When I was a kid, Groundhog Day meant that a stupid rodent would crawl out of its hole and tell us if we were going to have an early spring or more (six weeks more) winter.

Nowadays, it doesn't mean the same things to me. First of all, (A) I live in Texas. That means, if we have six more weeks of "winter" the way it was this last weekend....sign me up! Sunny and 70s. It doesn't get any better than that. Also, (2) there was that movie. You know the movie. Bill Murray and Andie McDowell. He's the curmudgeonly reporter for some cheesy morning program who has to go collect all those "human interest" stories that are just so much crap. He winds up in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania for the stupid rodent fest and is doomed to repeat his day until he gets it right and he and Andie McDowell hook up. Which started me thinking: what day in my life would I repeat in the hopes of changing the outcome and making things better?

The obvious answers jump right out at you:

• February 13, 1971 (the day my dad died)--but I was three and didn't really do anything that I could change that day.
• November 13, 1992 (the day my sister died)--again, didn't really make any glaring errors that day. I handled things pretty well. I kept my mom sane and managed to get us all notified and booked for flights. Hell, I think my part of the day was pretty smooth.
  
• December 12, 1988 (the day of the farm accident)--good call, if I had not leaned over that PTO shaft...And it would have been nice to not have gone through all that pain and not having all the scars would be a huge boost to my self-confidence. But, I'm going to have to say no on that one. Because so much of who I am today took shape from that experience. And, while the scars have made me very self-conscious, living through that has given me a pretty good measure of my strength. I know that I can handle any pain because I survived that...with my sense of humor intact.
• November 22, 1997 (something to do with Maria)--no. There was no one day that I screwed up with Maria. It was an every day thing. I was such an idiot. God, no wonder she hates me.
  

So, what would I change? Well, maybe I'd go back to the night that the comedian was flirting with me and I completely missed it. I wonder how many "takes" it would require for me to get my head out of my ass. Maybe, I'd figure out that M_ was an abusive alcoholic earlier and I wouldn't have the scar on my forehead. Maybe, I would blow off the Spanish homework. Or maybe, more likely, some moment that seemed completely normal changed everything.