I was looking forward to spring, but I guess the Daisy Dukes will have to wait until summer. A few days back, a balmy 60 degrees if memory serves me, I walked by our exhausted snow shovel, that’s been standing at the ready by our back door for the past 16 months of winter, and foolishly thought that maybe it was safe to hang it in the shed for some well-earned R&R.

Then superstition crept in and reminded me that that was akin to flipping Old Man Winter the bird, and Old Man Winter doesn’t like getting the bird flipped in his direction. As I stand in our drive-way, pausing to lean on the previously mentioned snow shovel, and revel in the glorious winter majesty being pushed on me from above, I realize that Old Man Winter pays no heed to the silly snow shovel superstitions of those foolish enough to live north of Florida.

So I put my Daisy Dukes on under my snow pants, flipped him and his winter majesty the bird, coveted my neighbors snow blower for a moment (she’s a beauty), and went back to the dancing polar bear routine. Bouncing back and forth between the boundaries of our driveway before someone drives on it and I have to wait until August for the snow packed tracks to soften enough to be chiseled off.

Speaking of Old Man Winter, well old men anyway, there was some interesting research conducted in the 1970s that attempted to turn back time (before Cher’s attempt). The researcher put about eight men, who were in their 70s, in an environment that was setup to mimic the 1950s. Music, books, magazines, newspapers, photos, television programs…an all-out blast into their past.

The men were told not to reminisce about the 1950s they were surrounded by, but to speak of the by-gone era in present terms, and act as they would have then. These men stayed in this 1950s time capsule for a week, and the results were pretty interesting. Some that came in leaning on a cane for assistance, walked out a week later leaving their canes behind, while others engaged in a game of touch football.

In general, their overall physical and mental feelings of well-being improved markedly in a brief period of time travel. I don’t think anything “magical” occurred during this week, The Ed Sullivan shows black-and-white rays didn’t teleport the subjects through some mystical hula hoop porthole.

I’m not a scientist, white lab coats wash out my complexion, but I think that the only “magic” that happened was between the time travelers ears. A switch was thrown that set forth the flow of thoughts and feelings from a time when they probably had a much more well-defined sense of self, a sense of meaning, a sense of purpose. Apparently sense is important…try not to lose it.

Our environment plays a big part in influencing our thoughts and behavior. Maybe the home improvement channels should back off and leave us and our wood paneling and shag carpet alone. They could become personal improvement channels. You pick the era, they “unmodel” your home to match that era, and you get to enjoy thoughts and feelings of youthful exuberance while you admire your bowling trophies and witty ashtray collection.

I forgot to mention…the researcher also made sure that there weren’t any mirrors in the throwback setting. Apparently, mirrors have the power to knock time travel off the rails and make for a rocky re-entry into reality. A sort of krypton that strips away illusions of mullets and firm fitting skin and brings youth to its arthritic knees. So it goes.

“Goodbye grey sky, hello blue, there’s nothing can hold me when I hold you….” Sure Fonzie…shut up and grab a shovel.