February needs counseling

I think February has Napoleon Syndrome.

It’s the shortest month of the year, and yet you can’t get past it without noticing how special it is. It’s a month full of hearts, chocolate, stuffed animals, sappy greeting cards, and a push to get the edge on ring by spring. It’s also the month that we celebrate all of the presidents. Hail to Washington, the brilliant commander. Hail to Lincoln, whose political genius and level-headedness led our country through another disastrous crisis. Then there are all the other important people who happen to have birthdays in February like Laura Ingles Wilder, Ronald Regan, Steve Jobs, Rosa Parks, Fredrick Douglass, and the list goes on and on.

Of course, we can’t forget that poor groundhog that is unceremoniously woken from a deep slumber in a dark, warm den then pulled out into the cold to be held up in front of a crowd of loud on-lookers including a wall of reporters with flashing cameras… and all for the sake of a stupid shadow. I don’t know about you, but if I were treated that way, it would make me the grumpiest creature on earth.

Thing is, not even December can boast so much randomness. Sure, you have Christmas spilling out all over the place… oh yeah, and there’s Hannukah and Kwanzaa, too… but it’s when you take a step back, it’s like a tangled mess of strings of lights. All three holidays are festivals of lights: all of them winding around each other and going in different directions. Granted, they’re all celebrating different observances; but in the end, they all fall under the same category of celebration, commemorated with special foods, decorations, remembrances of important histories, and of course, some kind of light—candle and/or electric—in the darkest month of the year.

But you can’t fit February’s holidays in such a neat category. Nope. It’s Love and groundhogs and presidents And anything else that Can be squeezed into 28 days month. See what I mean? It’s like February is trying to make up for being so short by staying busy and demanding everyone’s attention. Hence, why I think February needs counseling.

Or maybe, in honor of February being Spunky Old Broad Month, maybe it just needs one of them to tell it where to get off. What is a spunky old broad? I’m glad you asked. It’s a less-than-diplomatic way of describing a feisty, intelligent, and resourceful older lady who isn’t afraid to be outspoken when someone needs an attitude or course adjustment.

Chances are you have—or have had—someone like this in your life. I know I have. I’ve often appreciated the straight-forward, no-nonsense, logical approach these ladies have to life. Actually, that’s only partially true. I appreciate their perspective, but only after the initial irritation at their forthrightness and, to be blunt, just plain correctness.

There’s a wide range of spunky old broads, from the ones who aren’t afraid to step on anyone’s toes no matter what to the ones who are the most diplomatic people you could know. Personally, I have found that the ones who are the most powerful are the ones who are the epitome of grace, love and respect.

They are the ones who are the first to offer an encouraging word and give the best hugs. They are empathetic and aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty when someone needs help. They have honed a keen sense of humor that plays in conversation regularly. They’re also trustworthy: whatever you tell them is kept in strict confidence. They’re quick to listen and slow to speak. But when they open their mouths, you know that wisdom will pour out—whether invigorating, corrective, or both; but in any case, they are always, always loving. They’re the kind of ladies that I become a better person just by being around them.

Accepting and applying their advice has often saved me consternation and regret, or gotten me off my high horse, or pulled me out of a boggy swamp of self-pity. Often, they have helped me see myself in a truer light, helping me laugh at my own ridiculousness or quit doubting myself and instead stand more confident. I am grateful for them. And to be perfectly honest, when I grow up, I want to be a spunky old broad just like them.

So here’s to the spunky old broads and their lives that have been welllived. if you are one, then thank you for the role you have played in your sphere of influence. And who knows? Maybe someday, a straight-talking lady will be able to convince February that it’s just fine on its own and can quit showing off. Maybe?

Okay, maybe not. But let a future spunky old broad dream a little.