Beyond the Byline: Of Mr. Toma, Phil and those ‘what ifs’

WILKES-BARRE — As January ends, the month of February begins and, for me, a rollercoaster of emotion will surely follow.

February starts out just fine — my dear friend George Toma will turn 94 on Feb. 2, the day Pennsylvania celebrates the fearless weather prognostication of a rodent.

Yes, Mr. Toma and Punxsutawney Phil share this date and Mr. Toma will be celebrating again — as he has for the last 57 years — at the Super Bowl. Mr. Toma has been in charge of field preparations at the Super Bowl every single year. That’s quite an accomplishment and Mr. Toma has always successfully presented a beautiful and safe field for the NFL’s biggest game.

Punxsutawney Phil is the name given to a groundhog residing in Young Township near Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania — Phil has become the central figure in Punxsutawney’s annual Groundhog Day celebration.

You know the shtick: A large crowd gathers and someone holds Phil up for the cameras and announces whether or not Phil has seen his shadow and whether or not we will endure six more weeks of winter.

Legend says this annual event began in 1886. Has anyone actually kept score on Phil’s accuracy?

Anyway, as far as Feb. 2 goes, I choose to celebrate Mr. Toma’s birthday rather than a rodent’s weather prediction.

And as we all have come to accept, the NFL Super Bowl is now held in February, after having been played in January for many years. So that means Super Bowl parties will go on, but it might be a bit colder when you head out to your favorite watering hole or your neighbor’s house to watch the game and devour food that might not usually be on your diet.

Not to mention adult beverages. Uber drivers will make big money on this day, Feb. 12.

And just when you are about recovered from your Super Bowl party, along comes that dreaded day — the one where those of us unlucky in love must endure the annual celebration of love, Valentine’s Day.

Yuck.

Don’t get me wrong, I applaud those lucky ones who have not only found true love, but have kept it and savored it for years and years. You really are the lucky ones in this world.

But I must say, Valentine’s Day is not one of my favorite observations.

Ironically, I sincerely believe in love — I just have never been able to find the long-term kind that I so very much admire and respect. And I am certain that I am to blame for most of my failures of the heart.

As Jimmy Buffett sang, “It could be my fault.”

I just want to say that Valentine’s Day for most is a wonderful day to celebrate the love of one’s life and to shower them with gifts and actions that reinforce that love for one another.

For others, me included, it serves as a reminder for all that could have been.

That’s why people who are in love and who have their life partners at their side should cherish the opportunity to celebrate and continue to do all they can to perpetuate the love they share.

As Valentine’s Day approaches, I think back to a column I wrote in 2014 about by head-on confrontation with the “what ifs” in my life. On that particular July afternoon, the “what ifs” hit me hard.

That was when I was leaving work and walking to my car and found a graduation photo of a girl named Kennedy stuck to my driver’s side window.

I didn’t know the girl in the photo, so I dismissed it and tossed it on my passenger’s seat and drove home.

That’s when those “what-ifs” hit me.

What if “Kennedy” was my long-lost daughter or granddaughter?

What if she was reaching out to me?

What if she wanted to meet me?

What if, what if, what if?

What if she’s getting married and wants me to walk her down the aisle?

The experience left me shaking as I drove home.

But yet it gave me a brief glimmer of hope, quickly doused, but it was fun to suddenly think about things — birthdays, graduations, proms, ballgames, weddings — that never occurred with my non-existent child.

And I thought a lot about the perpetuation of family after I’m gone.

I have come to accept the fact that I won’t ever have the honor of walking my daughter down the aisle on her wedding day.

Because I had two great parents, I think I would have been a good father. I would have always been there for my son or daughter and I would have enjoyed every step of the way as they grew from infants to toddlers to baseball players to ballerinas to scholars to spouses to parents themselves.

I would be as proud as I possibly could be.

Like Kennedy did all those years ago, the memories of things I never learned remain — memories of things I never had or knew.

Too often, we don’t value what we have — we don’t realize or appreciate all that life brings us.

I even manage to value memories I didn’t make and I treasure the experiences I could have had.

So, for me, it’s good to think of what could have been.