There comes a time in every winter when cabin fever sets in and we just say, "Uncle." Enough already. Early February is that time.
The holidays are long gone. The snow isn't pretty, no one is dreaming of a white Christmas, and the cold is really getting to be a pain.
When I walk to work in the morning I am forever looking up at the giant time and temp sign.
It was eleven or twelve degrees this morning just before 5 a.m. There was a cold, stiff wind which made it feel like it was zero.
In the summer when I walk to work at 5, dawn is breaking, the birds are chirping, Central Park alive with bikers and joggers.
These days its pretty quiet. The weather is a metaphor for our times. The news is bleak. The economy is bleak. Yes, this is the winter of our discontent.
I'm sure I have seasonal adjusted light deprivation or whatever it's called. The fact is we could all use a little light. A little warmth.
Get the economic engine revving again, so we can feel the heat.
By Harry Smith