Just like last year 

It’s the same thing every year. I never remember that it’s Groundhog Day until I wake up in the morning (ish) and find everybody talking about it. That delayed awareness prevents me from enjoying the early Groundhog Eve festivities the way I assume the rest of you do. The rodent nog, the hanging of the underpants by the chimney with care, the singing of the traditional “Twelve Days of Rabies…” I never even got to smoke any mistletoe. 

Trifecta 

So last week, I got assigned to write an obit feature, cover a school committee meeting and report on the weather. That’s an unholy trio right there. My editors are savage. If this trend continues, I expect next they’ll simply walk me to the roof of the newspaper building, poke me in both eyes and drop me headfirst into a Dumpster. 

We never had this discussion 

The only good thing about covering school committee meetings in Auburn? You get to have conversations with people in that damp, dark parking garage, and doing that always makes me feel like Bob Woodward. Or Carl Bernstein, whichever was the handsome one played by Robert Redford. 

Lewiston city administrator to retire 

Say it ain’t so, Ed. If the city wants to maintain its integrity after Barrett departs, they should demand that he leave the mustache. 

The Big Game 

The smack talk, the scuffles, the violent outbursts and gaudy entertainment . . . Why watch the Super Bowl when you can tune in to the State of the Union address? And no need for expensive halftime entertainment because everybody in the room is a performer. The show could use more funny commercials, though. 

No smoking on Lisbon Street 

Wow, Lisbon Street has come a long way since I first came to Lewiston. Back then, smoking, drinking, fighting, cussing and vomiting weren’t just allowed on Lisbon Street, I believe it was all mandatory in front of some clubs. If you didn’t manage at least four of the five while reeling in and out of the social clubs down there, you weren’t trying hard enough. 

Groundhog Day again 

Now that I think of it, since hogs of the ground are such great prognosticators, maybe I should take one on as a pet and let him forecast my days. I’ll call him Garth. If I crawl out of bed and find that Garth has prepared my coffee and laid out the newspaper, it’s going to be a good day. Probably some crime news, low editor interference, etc. If Garth bites me in the face before I’m even out of bed, it’s going to be a horrible day. Weather stories, meetings, angry phone calls . . . Of course, if a rodent bites me in the face, I’m probably going to need a round of rabies shots, so take that, editors. I’m out sick today. 


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