Feb. the cruelest month of the year

“Now is the winter of our discontent” is the opening line in Shakespeare’s play “Richard III,” published in 1699. The story has nothing to do with winter. Or bad weather. My thought was to quote that line for this column because of the political events of this winter. Then February arrived.

When it comes to weather on the East Coast of the United States I have long thought of February as the cruelest month of the year. I say this even though T.S. Eliot in his “The Waste Land” poem starts by citing April as the cruelest. My reasoning is simple. April feels better than February.

Also, in many segments of the United States, February can be the coldest month. This was so here in Connecticut in 2015. Back then we set a record for the state’s lowest temperatures and snowiest winter ever. And it led to unusual happenings.

For instance, that month gave a Weston family a new perspective on mice movement. At least one mouse over 37 winters had crawled through open crevices into their house. That 2015 February over a two-week period, members of an extended rodent family burrowed their way into the kitchen. The mice sought overnight respites. Who could blame them?

Our state has had its weather woes this month. But New Englanders have overcome them. We are far from winter wimps. However, I for one was grateful not have to spend two fiveday stays at a nearby motel because we lost our power ... as we did back in 2015.

Throughout a stretch of harsh weather days here and elsewhere, two events stood out for me. First there was Texas. It was difficult to believe so many people went on for so many days without power and water.

The nation was kept informed of their progress through daily statistical reports. But most unnerving was that there was no refuge for them in nearby motels or in the homes of friends. They too had no power or water. People were trapped in their spaces as often happens during calamities in developing countries.

During weather catastrophes statistics don’t provide a true insight into the toll a population suffers. It’s the stories that provide a better sense of how individuals overcame obstacles. It is then we gain a deeper insight into the human spirit.

The stories from Texans showed their ingenuity and their sense of sharing as their state was hit. In Austin there was Joyce Gioia, a speaker, author, and futurist by profession. About going forward, she said, “Because change and climate change are

During weather catastrophes statistics don’t provide a true insight into the toll a population suffers. It’s the stories that provide a better sense of how individuals overcame obstacles. It is then we gain a deeper insight into the human spirit.

happening at an ever-increasing rate, we need to expand our zones of comfort. Otherwise, we are going to experience higher levels of stress.” She went on to say, “I also learned that I could take the snow off my roof and use it to flush our toilet.”

A colleague from the Houston suburbs reported, “I felt that my wife and I had stored too much food over the years. At times I felt it was overkill on our part. Supermarket shelves quickly became barren. We learned every member of a nearby family got COVID-19. They couldn’t leave their home. So, for a few days we were feeding 11 people. And we felt good about helping them.”

In Oregon, the city of Portland also had had its weather challenges. Stories from a colleague there included another example of ingenuity. He told me, “We had so much snow here that driving was difficult. So, people started using skis to get into the downtown area to go to work. They used their heads and their feet.”

For me, the second and most consequential event this February was our reaching 500,000 deaths attributed to the coronavirus. And to my mind, the “half a million death” phraseology seems to have an inexplicably more ominous tone than any number less than 1 million.

In the last days of this month Texas seems to have returned to more normal living. Weather has gotten warmer there and in in our area. Vaccine inoculations are on the increase. The snow season will soon be over, and our hope is the number of those leaving us because of the coronavirus will quickly come to a screeching halt.

If Shakespeare were alive today, would he have entertained writing about winter and the pandemic? And unlike Eliot who wrote that April is the cruelest month, I am anxiously awaiting the arrival of this year’s fourth month.

M. Ryder