It’s a big responsibility writing a column for the newspaper, trying to touch on topics that readers will identify with while highlighting the humorous side of life. For a procrastinator like me, sometimes the deadline creeps up before inspiration settles in.
This month I was going to go for a universal topic, and write about the onslaught of colds, coughs and fevers experienced by my family this winter. One cold followed another like a chain smoker lighting up the next cigarette from the butt of the last. Being good students who learned our lessons from kindergarten, we share in our family. Germs are no exception. Every single one of us got the chance to be miserable, including the oldest off in college in North Carolina. I’m not quite sure how the germs made it to him through the telephone lines, but there it is. I told my mother that I wished I could heat my house on the fevers my family has suffered this cold and flu season. But as I write this, on spring break with lovely dry weather beckoning and yet another cold and fever keeping me housebound, I fail to see the humor in the subject.
Then I thought I could write about a topic of the day, like Juneau’s Democratic caucus. But I haven’t actually attended the caucus yet, even though it will be over by the time this piece goes to print. I’ve been invited at least four times, by earnest young callers from both candidates’ campaigns, and yes, I do intend to go. I’ll stand off in a corner so I don’t infect too many other eager voters. Which corner remains to be seen, and I’m not telling. Maybe that’s why they keep calling me.
I certainly don’t want to write about the Republican campaign—nothing humorous about that.
I could write about Easter, since this column will appear in the Sunday edition on Easter morning. But I’m pretty sure someone else has got that gig.
So I thought I’d write about skunk cabbage. Skunk cabbage is one of the first plants to emerge in the spring, brightening the woods with its lovely yellow flowers. It feeds the bears as they stumble out of their dens to forage, and it feeds our hopes that spring is on its way, really and for true.
Fun fact: According to the National Wildlife Federation’s website, skunk cabbage has the ability to produce its own heat as it comes up in the spring. The website explains that, “during the winter when temperatures are freezing, the flower buds can warm up to 70 degrees, which melts the snow around the plant.” The site doesn’t use the word “fever,” but one has to wonder. I don’t even heat my house up to 70 degrees—maybe I should gather up some skunk cabbage to do the trick.
Then the skunk cabbage grows from its pristine yellow shoot into a big, green, smelly plant. Is there a metaphor for life here? No ugly duckling growing into a beautiful swan here. But in its green smelliness it somehow resembles Shrek, that odiferous ogre with a heart of gold. Hidden under the stinky leaves you can find a hint of magic, if you know how to look. According to Janice J. Schofield’s “Discovering Wild Plants,” skunk cabbage has many medicinal uses. If you know what you’re doing, in conjunction with a number of other herbs, you can make a tea that is “an ideal beverage for smokers, as well as those with coughs, colds, or asthma.” (p. 39). A cure for the common cold? Or even just a way to cough a little less and sleep a little more at night? Three cheers for skunk cabbage!
In the end, you probably didn’t encounter Shrek at the Democratic caucus, although you can see him on stage at Thunder Mountain High School next weekend. You probably didn’t get skunk cabbage in your Easter basket, but you can enjoy a beautiful crop along the roadsides at this time of year. You likely have a cold, or know someone who does. I agree, there’s nothing funny about that!
• Peggy McKee Barnhill is a wife, mother and aspiring author who lives in Juneau. She likes to look at the bright side of life.
