America celebrates her 233rd birthday this July 4th.  See more of July’s happenings at HolidaysAndEvents.com.

Personally, I’ll be in rehearsals for Cinderella, A British Pantomime at Carrollwood Playhouse. The show runs in August.  I’ll also be working on finally getting the plushie tourist website up and running.

My friend, Darlene, is giving a speech today in school about superstitions and their origins. She is going to mention one well-known superstition of the theater: don’t whistle backstage. I thought that this would be a good time to write about several theater superstitions and their origins.

The text of this post has been moved and can be viewed at my website dedicated to amateur theatre.
Theatre Superstitions.

I admit that every few years I get confused about being bissextile.  It’s not an easy thing to talk about.  Most people seem confused and somewhat embarrassed by the issue.  But what can I do?  It’s not like I have a lot of control over it.

What really bothers me is that this may always be difficult in our society.  It is better than it was a long time ago, but no matter how advanced we become, being bissextile is frustrating.

Maybe in a thousand years or so, we will become advanced enough where it will not be an issue.  But even then, will anyone really understand the history?  Will they understand all the confusing ways we have tried to cope with the issue?

In other words, will they really understand what February 29 means?

We’ve added bissextile days or Leap Days to our calendars since ancient times.  The Romans even added whole bissextile months to the calendar before Julius Caesar changed everything.  That must have been really confusing.

I suppose I just have to live with it.  It is what it is.  I’ll try to live day to day and not worry about it.  Although, in four more years, I’ll have to deal with it all over again.  Perhaps by then, I’ll be wiser and better able to deal with being bissextile.  If not, I’ll just have to “do it” like everyone else.

How did February 14 become a day of love letters, flowers and candy?

One legend begins during the reign of Claudius II (268 – 270 C.E.). The large Roman Empire was always dealing with invasions or uprisings. It needed large numbers of soldiers in its armies. However, Claudius noted that the number of new recruits was waning. It seemed that most young men would rather fall in love and marry than volunteer to fight.

To increase the ranks, Claudius passed a law banning marriage. The Emperor reasoned that if young men were not able to take wives, they would be more than willing to fight for Rome.

Needless to say, he was incorrect. People still fell in love after all, and they wanted to get married. Wedding ceremonies were simply moved underground. This was very dangerous. Defying the Emperor would not only mean imprisonment, but also death.

Valentine, a Catholic priest, was very active in helping young couples tie the knot. He would arrange to meet the bride and groom in a secret place and then perform the ceremony. Somehow, Valentine was caught, and he was put to death on February 14.

Another story also involves another Roman citizen named Valentine. It is said on the eve of his execution, he sent a letter to his loved one and signed it "From Your Valentine." He was also reported to be killed on February 14.

The Ides of February (the 15th) was an important holiday for the Romans. It was the beginning of the the festival of Lupercalia, which celebrated fertility and the beginning of Spring. Single men would pull the names of eligible ladies out of a jar, and they would be escorts to these women for the entire festival.

In an attempt to suppress the pagan celebration, the Catholic Church associated the day with the Virgin Mary, and the pairing of young men and women moved to the fourteenth, the feast of Saint Valentine, the patron saint of Love.

The tradition of pulling names out of jars continued well into the Middle Ages. After pulling their partners names, the young men would wear favors given to them by the young women on their sleeves. This is the origin of the expression "Wearing your heart on your sleeve."

Also during the medieval period, Europeans believed that birds returned to their mating sites on February 14. What better time to start the mating rituals of humans – the sending of love notes and giving of presents?

In the sexually repressed Victorian Period, sending a mass produced card on Valentine’s Day was a safe way to tell someone that you were interested in a romantic relationship. This later evolved into the giving of flowers and candy.

The true origins of Valentines are hidden in the cloudy past, but if you have a loved one, chances are you will express that love clearly on February 14 with a card, a bunch of flowers, a box of candy, or some other token of affection.

Several men in top hats surround the tree stump at Gobbler’s Knob. Just after sunrise, one of the tuxedo-clad men reaches into the stump and Punxsutawney Phil, Seer of Seers, Sage of Sages, Prognosticator of Prognosticators, and Weather Prophet Extraordinary, is pulled out and presented to the crowd.

The President of the Inner Circle consults with Phil. They speak in a language no one seems to understand. After some time, the President translates Phil’s predictions to the crowd. Will there be an early spring, or has Phil foreseen six more weeks of winter?

Phil is a groundhog, and this ceremony is held every February 2nd in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. It is said that if a groundhog sees his shadow on Groundhog Day, there will be six more weeks of winter. If on the other hand, the day is overcast, and there is no shadow, Spring will come early.

In early to mid February, the days in the Northern Hemisphere become longer. Many animals are pregnant at this time of year, preparing to deliver when the warmer weather arrives. This is the time when the groundhog and other animals that hibernate begin to wake, if only for a short time to check on the climate.

The belief that groundhogs, hedgehogs, badgers and other burrowing mammals have the ability to tell if spring will come early goes back to Roman times. When Europeans came to America, they brought this belief with them. By that time, February 2nd was already known as the day that the groundhog would make his prediction.

The date is also known as Candlemas, a special day in some religions. It is also a cross quarter day, one of the days that mark the midpoint between a solstice and an equinox. Therefore, it is not very surprising that Groundhog Day was assigned to the day marking the midpoint between the beginning of Winter and the coming of Spring.

A young woman waits for the two young men who are running toward her. As they approach, she pulls up the hem of her toga past the thigh. She closes her eyes and feels a rush of lustful grace as one of the boys pelts her skin with a thong made from the skin of a recently sacrificed goat.

Gratefully, she drops her gown and basks in the knowledge that she has been purified, and she hopes that someday soon, a similar young man will make use of the blessing of fertility she has just received.

That might have been a story in Rome 2000 years ago. Today, it’s just a part of the history of the month called February.

The Festival of Lupercalia was celebrated in Rome on February 15. The festival was based on the story of the founding of Rome by Romulus and Remus, two boys nursed by a wolf. Because Romans considered themselves descendants of the famous twins, they were friends with wolfs, so their goats and sheep were safe from attack.

To show their gratitude to the wolfs, the Romans would sacrifice a goat. Whips made from the goat’s skin were called Februa, or tools of purification. Two boys, representing Romulus and Remus, ran through the streets of the city hitting willing females with the whips.

On the same day, the entire Roman Empire celebrated the festival of Juno Februata or Juno the Purifier. Juno, the wife of the King of the Gods, Jupiter, was the goddess of marriage and fertility (among other things).

The coming of Spring was the inspiration for these events. Pregnant livestock and longer days were signs that warmer weather was coming. It was a time to think of changes you could make before the world renewed itself. Hmmm, seems a lot like New Year resolutions and Lent.

One of the party games played on the feast of Juno Februata involved the pairing of young men and women. The virgins would place their names in a jar, and the young men would each pull out a name. The couples were than obligated to spend the rest of the festival together. Often, the young men would wear the girls names on their arms. Because the theme of the day was fertility and the coming of Spring, the young couples would often end up… well, you get the idea.

When the Catholic Church gained power, it had to eliminate these pagan (and very sinful) festivals and replace them with its own.

The feast of the Purification of the Virgin was thus created and slated for the fourteenth (due to lunar versus solar celebrations and such). However, by Jewish law, Mary’s purification had to happen 40 days after the birth of Jesus, so it was moved to February 2nd when the Church decided to celebrate the Nativity on December 25th rather than January 6th. The Church then dedicated the day to Saint Valentine. Couples still seem to like the day.

February 2nd certainly gained some needed holiness when the feast of the Purification was assigned to it. It was already an important pagan holiday as it was the day midway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox.

Many Romans and other Europeans believed that it was on February 2nd that the hedgehog would come out of its hibernation and decide whether Spring would come early. The rodent did this by coming out of its den and looking around. If it saw its shadow and ran back into its hole, Spring would not come for another six weeks. When Europeans moved to America, there were no hedgehogs, so the groundhog accepted the honor.

While the Irish waited for the badgers and hedgehogs to tell them if Spring would arrive early, they celebrated the feast of Imbolc, dedicated to the goddess Brighid. This feast was also related to the midway point between solstice and equinox, and started at sunset on February 1st. Of course, when the Church reached Ireland, they just had to erase any sign of the pagan tradition and replaced Brighid with Saint Brigit.

It just so happens that February 2nd is also the feast of the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple, another Jewish ritual required 40 days after the birth of a male child. The priest at the Temple called Jesus “a light for revelation to the Gentiles.” The day was celebrated with processions and the blessing of candles. Christians called the day Candlemas.

As you celebrate the holidays of February, perhaps you will light a candle while thinking of the coming Spring. You could participate in a rite of purification. Or you could plan something really big for Valentine’s Day. Wear your heart on your sleeve and bear some flesh. Maybe someone will come along and whip you.

I leaned back and looked up at the millions of stars in the night sky. It was one of those rare moments when I felt so small because the universe was so big. Yet at the same time, I felt connected to it.

Sitting there in the quiet darkness, staring up in awe, I experienced what some would call a spiritual moment. There were just so many stars! Then, they started to move.

At first, they moved almost imperceptibly. But the motion increased little by little, until it seemed that the stars stopped moving and my body began to travel in the opposite direction. It was as though I was traveling through space.

The stars orbited the North Star, going around and around. I had to shut my eyes to stop the dizziness. From somewhere in the distance, meditative music was playing softly, and a deep voice said, ”Hello.”

“Hello, and welcome to the planetarium.”

It was not my first visit to this wonderful star theater. My grandfather was a member of the science museum and gave me a junior membership for several years. On many summer days, after walking through the museum watching others wonder at the exhibits that I had viewed a hundred times, I would go to the planetarium.

The planetarium had a small vestibule that guaranteed no outside light would enter during a show. This transitional space gave me a sense that I was entering a special place. The darkened space inside the second set of doors felt almost like a church. This feeling was enhanced by “celestial” music.

Next came the most memorable part of my visit, my meeting with the Star Monster. In the center of the dark, round room was an enormous black machine. This star projector was about 12 feet long and had large spheres on each end that were more than two feet in diameter.

Attached to the end of each sphere was a smaller ball about six inches wide. It reminded me of a giant dumbbell, but it was much more intimidating.

Dozens of small lens were scattered over the black metal surface of each orb. They looked like dark eyes and gave the impression that the machine could see you no matter where you were in the room.

The center bar that connected the two large spheres was not solid, but a framework of rods and metal strips. A wide metal ban wrapped around the center of the machine had marks and numbers inscribed on its surface.

The projector was supported at its center and was suspended six or seven feet above the floor by a metal frame. The four thin supports looked like spider legs. Placed here and there on the frame and the support platform were various lights and machines that must have been other projectors.

During the planetarium show, the different spheres on the projector would rotate to move the stars on the ceiling. Sometimes, the entire machine would seem to move, its dark image only visible because of the projected sky on the other side of the room. My imagination didn’t have to work overtime to make me believe that the entire apparatus would break free of its support platform and begin walking on its thin metal legs. Look out! Here comes the Star Monster!

This was as much a part of the experience as seeing the stars. Because of our modern computers and optical technology, the planetarium projector today is simply a small box with a dome lens measuring maybe a foot in diameter. This small light source can project the entire universe onto a dome sometimes measuring more than 70 feet or more across.

When I visit a modern planetarium, the dark lens (or glowing ball, if the planetarium is a bit older) in the center of the room seems mysterious and arouses curiosity. Yet, it can never compare to the Star Monster I knew as a youngster.

P.S. [added March 21, 2008] I found out that the Smithsonian Institution’s Einstein Planetarium has a Star Monster! A photo can be found Here.

Here’s Another One in Berlin.