My parents moved me to Birmingham, Alabama when I was three and I didn’t leave until I was twenty-four. More than any smell, sight, or sound, the one thing that immediately brings on a rush of memories to this past is oppressive, energy-sapping, summer humidity. Walking through any other place where the air feels like it might spontaneously congeal into sweat-flavored jello makes me not so nostalgic for my past, but embittered.
Why did my parents force this hellish place on me? When I turned twenty-five, however, I moved to Austin, Texas for five years, a place now near unlivable in the summers. Thankfully, I removed myself from these sadistic, open air dungeons of hot water vapor and spent the last ten years in the Pacific Northwest, New England, and the Northeast. I’m not sure this means anything at all, but it does seem that the most important moves of my life are now dictated by my expectation of the weather.
We moved to NW Washington for retirement a few years ago. From October through May (and some years, June) the question is not whether it will rain that day but when and how much. Umbrellas are uncool here. You get a rain jacket and pretend it’s all good. I think it’s easier for the young’uns.
For seven years of my work life, I was an instructor at the Federal Aviation Administration's academy in Oklahoma City. I learned about tornados, what to do if one decided to come down my street, and how very, very accurate the forecast paths were. The scientists with the National Storm Prediction Center have elevated the science to the point that they can tell you not only the county and town; they can predict with great accuracy the path at the street level, even which side of the street might be worse off than the other.
Tornados, being one of Mother Nature's least predictable yet most damaging need accurate predictions. They are not as wide as hurricanes, so their ground track can be narrow or very wide. The folks who develop and refine those models are very smart people, indeed.
Ha ha Michael ...this hits close to home. I refuse to talk about the weather in this house...as I do not listen to the meterologist on the the local nighttime news. Weather happens when it happens. So....?
I remember when I was living in the Dominican Republic, explaining to the locals how we discuss weather so much at home....it was odd to me then. But in the DR the weather is always the same...s whatis there to talk about....no real season changes. BTW...did you know there are ten or words use to describe snow based on its conditions, its consistency on the ground, etc..
Since turning 50, I can't help being tuned into the weather. My body has begun giving me clues about when / if it's going to rain or snow based on my joints and sinuses. This is super fun as you can imagine. Ow.
Such a great meditation on things and whatnot.
My parents moved me to Birmingham, Alabama when I was three and I didn’t leave until I was twenty-four. More than any smell, sight, or sound, the one thing that immediately brings on a rush of memories to this past is oppressive, energy-sapping, summer humidity. Walking through any other place where the air feels like it might spontaneously congeal into sweat-flavored jello makes me not so nostalgic for my past, but embittered.
Why did my parents force this hellish place on me? When I turned twenty-five, however, I moved to Austin, Texas for five years, a place now near unlivable in the summers. Thankfully, I removed myself from these sadistic, open air dungeons of hot water vapor and spent the last ten years in the Pacific Northwest, New England, and the Northeast. I’m not sure this means anything at all, but it does seem that the most important moves of my life are now dictated by my expectation of the weather.
Spot on. Hilarious in many ways. How is it in Lucca, Italy today? I believe that's on my phone from my last trip.
We moved to NW Washington for retirement a few years ago. From October through May (and some years, June) the question is not whether it will rain that day but when and how much. Umbrellas are uncool here. You get a rain jacket and pretend it’s all good. I think it’s easier for the young’uns.
For seven years of my work life, I was an instructor at the Federal Aviation Administration's academy in Oklahoma City. I learned about tornados, what to do if one decided to come down my street, and how very, very accurate the forecast paths were. The scientists with the National Storm Prediction Center have elevated the science to the point that they can tell you not only the county and town; they can predict with great accuracy the path at the street level, even which side of the street might be worse off than the other.
Tornados, being one of Mother Nature's least predictable yet most damaging need accurate predictions. They are not as wide as hurricanes, so their ground track can be narrow or very wide. The folks who develop and refine those models are very smart people, indeed.
Ha ha Michael ...this hits close to home. I refuse to talk about the weather in this house...as I do not listen to the meterologist on the the local nighttime news. Weather happens when it happens. So....?
I remember when I was living in the Dominican Republic, explaining to the locals how we discuss weather so much at home....it was odd to me then. But in the DR the weather is always the same...s whatis there to talk about....no real season changes. BTW...did you know there are ten or words use to describe snow based on its conditions, its consistency on the ground, etc..
Since turning 50, I can't help being tuned into the weather. My body has begun giving me clues about when / if it's going to rain or snow based on my joints and sinuses. This is super fun as you can imagine. Ow.
I live in FL where that's always talked about a lot. The local news in the evening is weather with a few bad stories in between.
Weather, health and grandchildren, conversational standbys of old people.
Replying to myself to clarify that I am a very old person
“What’s it like there?”
But how was poker?
I lost, Jason. I lost.