By Dick Brooks
For Capital Region Independent Media
The recent cold weather would probably be the main topic of conversation if I could find someone to discuss it with. Everyone has “holed up.”
Oh sure, there are still a few local joggers and walkers that waddle by bundled up to the extent that they just vaguely resemble life forms and not laundry bags that became suddenly mobile. You can’t even recognize the folks driving by in their cars and trucks — all the vehicles are the same road-salt white and everyone is so wrapped up that they’re unrecognizable. The ones that know you can’t even wave because of all the clothes they’ve got on.
Even the hamlet’s social center, the post office, is affected by the intense cold. You can now go in and get your mail and be out of there and back into your car in a minute or so. On a summer day, it usually takes a half hour or so and involves at least a half dozen nice conversations, but now, it’s leave the car running and dash from one warm area to the next as quickly as possible.
The bright sunshine and crystal clear skies, usually associated with the coldest weather, almost always lure me outside. Having grown up in upstate New York where it was frequently 20 or 30 below and having a mom whose favorite saying was, “Sun’s out, you’re out!”, I try to be faithful about taking my morning constitutional.
I usually add layers until I resemble the Pillsbury Dough Boy, a process that takes about a half hour on a good day because the more layers you add, the slower you go and then penguin-walk out onto the porch.
The “crinklies” hit almost instantly. You’ve had them — eyes squint, nostrils slam shut and your lungs start to crystalize. The only other living things in the arctic landscape that used to be my backyard are the chickadees, sitting in the shrubs and bushes, fluffed up to the size of volleyballs, they remind me that the feeders need filling. I squeak my way to the food container and squeak my way back to the feeder with a shovel full of seed.
There are a couple of kids waiting for the school bus at the bus stop and I watch them for a while as they try to get their noses unstuck from their jacket sleeves, it brings back fond memories. I decided to waddle on my way. I made it almost a hundred yards before turning around — that’s enough fresh air for anyone!
I stopped for a few moments to try to get the ice out of my mustache so I could breathe without whistling. That’s when I noticed the neighbor’s dog. The poor critter was frozen in a classic three-legged stance to the metal light pole near the road.
My first reaction was, “He got himself into this, let him get himself out of it.” I did yell in an encouraging tone, “Spring’s on the way” and started for the house. His pleading whine thawed the frozen cockles (whatever they may be) of my heart and I turned back to rescue him. A mighty tug and he was free and running down the street in a kind of knock-kneed way, yelping his head off. I felt kind of bad until I remembered they were going to have him fixed in the spring anyway.
I squeaked my way to the back door and spent more time getting undressed than I had spent outside. Exhausted, I made a cup of cocoa and headed for my recliner and clicked on The Discovery Channel!
Have you noticed the recent lack of programs about global warming lately?
Thought for the week — Having a tough day dealing with people? Just remember that half of all the people on the Earth are below average.
Until next week, may you and yours be happy and well.
Reach columnist Dick Brooks at whittle12124.
