All’s well, 11″ x 14″, watercolor and gouache, by Donna Lyons © 2025
My special childhood Groundhog Day memory
By Marty Coffin Evans © 2014
I was 10 years old, weighed 49 pounds and had infected tonsils causing me to remain continuously ill. What to do – have those tonsils taken out, and so they were.
In those days, ether was the anesthetic of choice. Count backward from 10 they said. I began with 10 -9 and soon was out.
As a fifth grader at Uni Hill Elementary in Boulder, I was sad to miss my classmates, teacher and school. My hope of carrying the flag into the classroom was diminished because of my ether reaction. I may not remember much about the flag part but, know carrying it was a very special honor.
My wise teacher had the class write letters to me during my convalescence. Since this was February, Ground Hog Day became the focal point of those little letters. What a great idea for the class. My memories of that remain with me to this day whenever the ground hog pokes his head out each February looking for his shadow.
Because my system didn’t respond well to ether, I spent more time at Boulder Community Hospital not able to keep my food down. Pastor Paul Madison came to visit me during that hospital stay. Much to my chagrin, my stomach decided to heave during that time. Embarrassed, I don’t remember what I said but most likely a feeble, “I’m sorry!”
All I wanted to do was go home to my dog Moppet. Home we went but alas, my stomach continued to resist keeping down the provided food.
I ended up putting Jello down the side wall by my bed rather than in my mouth. I don’t know what that wall looked like when we moved from that house years later!
With the admonition that back to the hospital I’d go, if I didn’t start eating and keeping it down, I obliged. Certain foods finally “stuck.” Maybe black olives began doing the trick. I seem to recall pineapple chunks too. Once eating began, I’ve never looked back often saying, “I never miss a meal if I can help it!”
For this little freckle-faced girl, those decades ago, receiving letters from my classmates became good medicine too. I’m grateful for the insight of my teacher who knew the value of having her students write along with the healing “we remember you” gift they gave me. Not a Ground Hog Day comes around without my thinking about those letters written so long ago.
Since I’ve been back in Boulder, I now visit Uni Hill in a Rotary journaling project where we engage with fifth graders. This time we’re partners writing to each other. My journal pal, Abi – a second language learner, writes of her different school experiences, tells me about how she spends her holidays and asks me questions about my family and my life. She’s invited me to attend her promotion ceremony at school this spring.
At one of our last visits to school, a fellow Rotarian asked me how different Uni Hill looks now compared to when I attended there. No doubt when we visit our former schools, they looked bigger than when we were younger. In my case, I remember that the floors were hard wood and not carpeted as they are now.
While I no longer remember the locations of my classrooms, I continue to cherish the written expression of support that February years ago. I hope my journaling with Abi provides her with a lasting impression of someone with whom she exchanged ideas in English all the while expressing herself through the written word. Whether healing or supportive, the power of language can and does transcend time.
February 2026