Austerity Month

February 1^st marks the launch of an annual tradition that Kathleen and I started some six or seven years ago. We call it “Austerity Month,” and this year promises to be a special one.

This tradition began one year when, like many people, we struggled to recover from another holiday season. By mid-January each year, we felt as if we had spent several weeks eating too much, drinking too much, and spending too much money. In order to regain control of our waistlines, our livers, and our pocketbooks, we decided that we would cut back on everything for an entire month. It is no coincidence that Austerity Month each year is declared for February, which is, of course, the shortest month on the calendar. We wanted to cut back, but we weren’t going to be crazy about it.

The rules were simple. 1) No drinking. That one was pretty straightforward. It felt strange not having a couple of beers while watching the Super Bowl or Gator basketball games or having wine with dinner, especially at restaurants, but we soldiered through. This rule was occasionally broken, as when our friend, Joy, had a destination wedding in Aruba in early February. Then, last year, during our first winter in the frozen North, we allowed ourselves a glass of wine with our wonderful happy-hour group on Wednesday afternoons. This year, there will be no restaurants, happy hours, or destination weddings, so we should be okay there.

2) Lose a few pounds with healthy eating. This, too, is fairly easy to follow. We select meals based on the point system of Weight Watchers, cut out snacks, and avoid sugar and starches.  It’s not too bad, and, when combined with a lack of high-calorie alcoholic drinks, we can usually drop a few pounds during the 28 or 29 days of the month.

3) Cut way back on spending. After throwing money around like sailors on liberty for two months, we refrain from all extra purchases during the month. As long as we plan ahead a little, we’re usually pretty good about this as well.

After all of this abstemious living, we are ready for March to arrive, and we welcome the new month with dinner out and a nice bottle of wine. March was the month when I had spring break from teaching, March Madness in basketball, and the start of the baseball season. We usually threw in a trip to Vegas for good measure. We were able to tackle those challenges feeling virtuous and rested after our ascetic month.

This year, the arrival of March will be especially welcome. You see, yesterday, we received our first shot of the Covid vaccine. We got ours at a local clinic in Baldwin, Wisconsin, and the entire process was remarkably easy and well-organized. We are scheduled for the second shot on February 26^th. We have to wait another week for that one to kick in, but by that first week of March, we will be good to go.

A short time ago—okay, it was 48 years ago—in January 1973, I was in my freshman year at Knox College in Illinois. As with most colleges, the school brought in well-known speakers, and this particular night, they had Dick Gregory speak. At that time, he was a well-known stand-up comedian (a major influence on Richard Pryor), author, and civil rights and anti-war activist. I had read his semi-autobiographical book and related to him because he had been a middle-distance runner at Southern Illinois University in the 1950s. After studying the life of Gandhi, he began to use hunger strikes as a political tool. That night in 1973, he explained that he was on a hunger strike until the Vietnam War ended. From the podium, he said, “So if tonight we get word that the peace talks have resulted in an end to the war, I wouldn’t recommend standing between me and the nearest hamburger.”

Similarly, on March 3^rd or so, when Austerity Month has ended, and we are officially cleared to re-enter public life, I wouldn’t recommend standing between us and the Nutty Squirrel.

(Footnote: I saw Gregory on January 22, 1973. The Vietnam War didn’t end that night, but a few days later, Jan. 28, a cease-fire was signed that effectively ended the US role in the senseless conflict. What did happen that night, while Gregory was on stage, was he received a note that told him LBJ had just died. It was fascinating to see him explain the note and stand there silently for several minutes, struggling with his emotions. He said that he regarded Johnson with great ambivalence. After all, as President, he had done more for Blacks than any politician since Lincoln. On the other hand, he started the War in Vietnam by lying to the American people about an attack on US ships in the Tonkin Gulf, near North Vietnam. We now know that attack never took place. Gregory said, “I have never loved a man so much or hated one so much as I did LBJ.” It was a poignant moment for me, sitting in the audience, and I’ve never forgotten that night.)