I looked it up before writing this blogitany. I saw it written both ways: President's and Presidents'. So, I guess we can take our pick. Maybe we should just go with Presidents Day...meaning a day we honor our presidents but not necessarily a day belonging to any one or group of Chief Executives. Anyhow, it is the day for presidents. Used to be we honored Lincoln on the 12th and Washington on the 22nd. Now it is a combo deal. In some ways it seems a little unfair to those two guys. Why should they be thrown in with the likes of Franklin Pierce and James Buchanan and Mumford T. Jellybottom? Okay, the last one may or may not have been a president. There was some weird stuff happening in the administration of Millard Fillmore and, one rumor says that Mumford T. Jellybottom won the chance to be President-For-A-Day in a card game. Please, if you are a student, studying for your President's Exam, disregard anything you read here. This is similar to the warnings I give parents and children when they call or e-mail about science questions. My personal grades were enough of a problem without taking responsibility for others. I find it a troubling coincidence that all the news about American kids falling behind the world in the study of science seemed to increase when I started doing weather and visiting schools. I have a long-standing fear that somewhere in a dusty old filing cabinet in the basement of the Kremlin a memo exists stating special gratitude to "Comrade Joel Nichols for doing his best to undermine the learning of science and, in particular, weather material, by the young people of America. We have had to do nothing to encourage this behavior. It is just good luck!" In the words of Mumford T. Jellybottom: "Ask not what your country can do for you but what you can do to relieve this pain in my lower back." Jellybottom was not very inspiring or relevant.

The fact is that, as a kid, I had a great interest in presidents. Previously, in this space, I mentioned writing to every president between Johnson (Lyndon, not Andrew, smarty-pants) and Reagan. Also, I had a couple of presidential spoons and a poster with all the presidents displayed. My bedroom was, to be honest, a little odd. On the one side, I had my presidential stuff and on the other a tribute to Avon. Not the river where Shakespeare went skinny-dipping but the "Ding-Dong. Avon Calling" type. As I've mentioned, our bionic Avon lady lived right across the street and would, from time to time, have front porch sales where she would sell discontinued products. So, I bought a cowboy on horseback decanter once...then a barber pole decanter...then a German Shepard decanter...then a bunch of chess piece decanters. There were others, too. I didn't use much of the cologne but I liked the little statuettes. So, one side of my room had this shrine to Avon. I'd like to say it was a phase I went through in my pre-teen years, but, truth be told, I still had the items on display when I met my wife-to-be, Jessica. I think it says much more about her judgment than mine, that she married me anyway. Perhaps she thought that one day these tributes to smelling good would be replaced by multiple broadcasting awards like Emmy's. Didn't happen.

Back to the presidency...I thought my room had a nice patriotic flair but was still lacking something. The walls of my room were a pale blue...nice enough but a little bland. That's when it hit me: I needed to have a red, white and blue bedroom. It was around the bicentennial so it seemed completely appropriate. I enlisted the help of my sister-in-law, Mary Jo, and we went to work. The walls were bright red. The slants up to the ceiling were white and the ceiling itself was blue. We did the whole room in about a day. Looking back we really should have had the window open since we both got a little loopy before we were done. In fact, I'm pretty sure that all those presidents on that poster started talking to us. As it turned out Taft was particularly helpful about where we had missed a spot or two. Grover Cleveland said we should stop for a day and then start in again later...mirroring his two terms in office. Benjamin Harrison accused us of getting paint in his beard and, surprisingly, Chester A. Arthur turned out to have a great singing voice, although Hang On Sloopy seemed an odd choice for him to croon. I think Mary Jo and I eventually had to turn over the paint brushes to my mom before we could finish. Out of self-preservation. Later Benjamin Moore and Sherwin and Williams all confronted my sister-in-law and I as part of a paint-fumes intervention.

My mom bought some star-spangled bedding and red, white and blue rugs as final touches. It was quite spectacular. I fully expected it to get onto some list of "must-see" patriotic places: "Gotta see the White House, the Liberty Bell, Gettysburg and that kid's bedroom in Wisconsin." To this day, when I see red, white and blue or the picture of a president, I think, warmly, of that bedroom. And, when I get a whiff of fresh paint, I immediately see Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln doing the Macarena.