Henrietta Hay's Column

My authority on teen-age affairs has requested a funny column. Funny? In January? Who can be funny in January? It's cold and the snow and slush are three feet deep. Well, maybe not exactly three, but it seems that way. And anyway, what is funny to me usually makes him shake his head in wonderment at the weirdness of adults, even in July.

I would be willing to skip January entirely although I should be used to it by now. I'll go along with Carl Reiner who commented that, "A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water."

We think this is a bad year, but we think every year is a bad one during the month of January. I remember one year here in the banana belt when it snowed about a foot on Christmas Eve and the temperature did not get above freezing for the full month that followed. And there was the first winter I ever spent out of Colorado. In January in up-state New York it went to forty below, never got above zero, and the sun disappeared entirely. I have, fortunately, pretty well erased that one from my memory. So from an objective point of view I guess this year is not too bad.

Aside from the weather there are other things that are unfunny in January. It is the income tax season. Whatever your situation, this is a traumatic time. This year the IRS gave us a Christmas present and delayed mailing those ubiquitous books for a couple of days. You know the ones. They have big blue stars and the ominous number - 1040 - on them. I guess they thought we could handle it better after we had had the second meal of turkey leftovers.

There is nothing funny about being on a Homeowners' association Board in January when the weather is cold and the snow is in the driveway and the few who have not left for Arizona have cabin fever.

In January practically everybody has the flu - or the crud - or whatever. Personally, I feel fine, but it's impossible and undesirable to conduct an intelligent conversation with someone who is sneezing and whining.

I don't have any snow boots. When the sun is shining I don't need them, and when it snows, the stores sold them all in October. Oh yes, you don't ask for galoshes any more. Remember galoshes? They were unbelievably ugly rubber boots that you wore over your shoes. They were fastened with weird snaps that froze either open or shut whenever you needed them the other way. And they weighed a ton. I think perhaps that is one thing out of the past that should stay in the past. Now you buy moon boots or splash boots or pac boots, or whatever you can find in January.

Fortunately the snow does allow some funny things to happen. A high spot of this month was a pair of large tame ducks, a black one and a white one. They were coming down a slight hill where the snow had drifted to a depth of about three feet and their means of locomotion was hard to discern. They were certainly not walking and they were not swimming. They had no skis, but somehow they managed to get to the bottom without losing their dignity, and they stalked off in high dudgeon, ignoring the people who were laughing at them.

And there is Brandy; the tiny white dog who is shorter than the snow is deep. As she mushed across the yard the tracks included her underside as well as her feet, creating a fascinating pattern in the snow.

But those are exceptions. Animals tend to adapt. Most people prefer to be gloomy and who am I to disturb them. Sorry, Christopher. I can't give you funny in January. Ask me in July.