Let It Snow

I grew up walking a quarter of a mile to my bus stop, past the lake, in 80 below wind-chill factors in sneakers and jeans. Sure there was the winter coat that I would zip up and dig my face into, but a hat was rarely an accessory any of us wore. If I can swim in the lake while there is still ice on it, why the hell would I need a hat?

When I moved to Florida, I found it sweltering and oppressive. Then again, I also didn't have air conditioning and it was the middle of summer. I used to sit and pray for it to get cooler. It never worked. I'd be sitting there hoping that the heat would forget I was there, so that I could move without risking the production of additional sweat. Sooner or later the sun would set and it would only be 80 and maybe then I could sleep. Oh, sleep. Wouldn't that be nice. Why would anyone live here? Where had my mother dragged me to?

Then I started college. There is something to be said for living in a part of the country that allows for women to walk around scantily clad all year long. There was also something to be said for never having to worry about wearing boots, tracking in snow, slipping on ice, walking around the lake in the middle of the night, in the dead of winter, without anything more than a light jacket. And air conditioning helped immensely.

I remember going to visit one of my friends at the University of Massachusetts over a winter break and having to concern ourselves with whether the car would make it to the top of the icy steep hill. First of all, what the hell is ice, and second of all, what's a hill? It was quite the adventure, but I feel that if I'm going to take my life into my own hands, I should be doing it while jumping out of a plane, not driving around a university campus.

"But don't you miss the seasons?"

When I went to get my third advanced degree, I moved to northern Florida. They actually had days there when it wouldn't get above 40. Can you imagine? Not only that, but the humidity would drop to something less than fifty percent. Insanity, I tell you. I had to get a humidifier in an attempt to stop my then persistent nose bleeds and had to use moisturizers on my hands every day so that they wouldn't crack and bleed. This was in addition to the thick ski jacket I had to buy. How the hell is someone supposed to live in 30 and 40 degree weather? I couldn't wait for December to be over, so we could get back to warmth.

"Florida has made you weak."

I know I could live in the cold. I grew up in the cold. We used to get so much snow, the National Guard was called in every year to plow us out. We'd be trapped in our houses, waiting for the Guardsmen to arrive and rescue us from out own private prisons. I know all about boots and electric blankets, thermal underwear and Thinsulate gloves, hats, and scarves. I'm sure that if I took the time, I could recondition my body and be jumping into partially frozen lakes in no time. I could get used to starting my car in the morning to make it warm enough for my drive twenty minutes later, and shoveling the driveway. But why the hell would I want to? Especially when I can live in a lush tropical location where I look out my window and see palm trees and where I never, ever have to worry about lacing up my boots or donning my winter coat.