We generally run for the hills when someone mentions Dengue Fever. Those with even a moderate case of Hay Fever cringe at the very thought of it. Then there was good old Peggy Lee, who “got fevah in the morning, fevah all through the night.” Even an ice-cold shower couldn’t cure that one.
By T W McDermott
We generally run for the hills when someone mentions Dengue Fever. Those with even a moderate case of Hay Fever cringe at the very thought of it. Then there was good old Peggy Lee, who “got fevah in the morning, fevah all through the night.” Even an ice-cold shower couldn’t cure that one.
Say the words “Spring Fever”, however, and everyone wants a piece of it, like Carmelo Anthony wants that ball (Thanks, Mike). This is the time of year when everyone from young Romeos and Juliets to frisky octogenarians and would-be Lindsey Vonns, not to mention expectant editors, succumb to the phenomenon.
What exactly is Spring Fever? Let’s go to the Wikio-tape:
“…in general it refers to an increase in energy, vitality … often particularly strong in those suffering from seasonal affective disorder (SAD) and thus experiencing lows during the winter months… In some uses, however, it refers to the opposite, an unexpected loss of energy with the onset of spring.”
S-A-D? Wiki again:
“also known as winter depression, winter blues … is a mood disorder in which people who have normal mental health throughout most of the year experience depressive symptoms….”
SAD, but true apparently. The National Institute of Mental Health actually defined SAD as an official form of longing in 1984. Even Orwell didn’t see that one coming. For the record, New Hampshire had the highest SAD rate at the time.
That makes some sense to me. I used to take my young family on an annual pilgrimage to Cannon Mountain, near Franconia each February. We became locally famous for being the harbingers of early spring in the form of melting snow immediately upon our arrival. By the time we left each year, the town had gone from white to green. It got so bad that Tony and Sharon, the proprietors of Lovett’s Inn where we stayed, began to offer generous financial inducements to enable us to try another mountain next time. They weren’t ready for Spring Fever.
Strangely, my spring fever actually began months ago, at Halloween, when, you may recall, a Trick snowstorm burst upon the Northeast. The storm created an instant mental mood swing that I mistook for mere confusion over Mother Nature’s messing with my favorite holiday. After all, I had met my wife to-be on Halloween, we bought our first house on Highland Road on Halloween, and there I was sloshing through the snow with a little white dog on a red leash, both of us with what I now know to have been a true case of Human Autumnal Spring Fever and Puppy SAD.
Remember, that goblin-blast dumped up to 32 inches in some places, making thousands of people do without power just a couple of days after the World Series had concluded. Only the ski-resort operators seemed happy about that; for many, it was the last natural white-stuff they’d see for quite a while. Talk about SAD!
What happens when you’ve already had Spring Fever in early November? It means that you will be getting Summer Fever in early to mid-March. Daytime temperatures have been in the 60s recently. On the day my esteemed editor requested a Spring Fever piece, it was 70 degrees and people were already wearing shorts, flowers were blooming, allergy sufferers were suffering!
It’s hard to tell whether we’re meant to be energized or depressed by this. With our current hot weather, the bouncing of teen-age hormones would probably make the fusion tank at CERN seem like it’s running in slow-mo. Some others may just be dazed.
We are about to depart for an annual expedition to a far-away island in southern climes, whose name I do not share. I can only tell you that when I alight from my seventh or eighth form of transport and my toe finally touches down on the isle, I will not be SAD; I will be very GLAD.
I’ve Got-up and Left Affective Disorders far, far behind.
