We may not have it all together, but together we have it all.
As I write this on Monday morning, my calendar says we have a couple of weeks remaining before summer. My thermometer, however, begs to differ. The high today in Fort Worth is supposed to be 97 degrees. Not that unusual. This is what we live with.
What freaks me out is that when I left the house a little after five this morning for my walk the temperature was 78 degrees. What is up with that?
And that’s not the worst of it. 78 degrees is livable, especially with a bit of wind to temper it. What makes this even worse is that it’s a precursor of July and August, when the overnight lows can be 83 to 85 degrees. That’s cruel and unusual punishment.
Only problem is, I might take a heat wave with me and lose their friendships from screwing up their weather. I’ve done that before.
Several years ago my wife and I went on an Alaska cruise with a ten-day land tour added. In Juneau, Skagway, Whitehorse and Dawson, the temperatures were in the high nineties—and nothing is air conditioned. We sweltered in our hotel rooms at night waiting for it to cool off. Even Eagle, Alaska, was hot.
See what I mean?
In a few weeks we’re going on a vacation, and we’re going to stay one night in La Crosse, Wisconsin. The plan is to get together with Jess Witkins for supper or breakfast. What if we take one of our 105 degree days with us? Will she even meet us? Guess we’ll have to take a chance on that.
Maybe I need to have a summer house somewhere like Banff or Jasper. I’m not sure they’ve ever seen a 90 degree day. We were in Lake Louise some years ago when the 55-degree temperature was exactly half of the 110 degrees Fort Worth was suffering. At least if I took a heat wave with me to these places I don’t know anyone who’d get mad at me over it.
Can you tell I’m just a tiny bit jealous of people who don’t have to put up with our kind of summer? Well, I guess in fairness, people like those mentioned above or Renee Schuls-Jacobson and Marcia Richards in Upstate New York would like to trade winters with me. I’m sure my niece in Minot, North Dakota, would. Maybe it all averages out in the long run. Maybe I should shut up and just be glad God allowed me to be a Texan.
What about your weather? Long, cold winters or unbearable summers? To twist Mark Twain’s words a bit, we can’t do anything about it, but we can sure
bitch complain talk about it. Tell us what you think.
David N. Walker is a Christian father and grandfather, a grounded pilot and a near-scratch golfer who had to give up the game because of shoulder problems. A graduate of Duke University, he spent 42 years as a health insurance agent. Most of that career was spent in Texas, but for a few years he traveled many other states. He started writing about 20 years ago, and has six unpublished novels to use as primers on how NOT to write fiction. He is currently putting the finishing touches on his non-fiction Christian Chicken Soup: Godly Thoughts and Inspiration from the Inbox and starting his new fiction work—a series of novellas set during the period from 1860 to 1880.
Contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org or tweet me at @davidnwalkertx