My ever-graying beard and creaky joints partner perfectly with this new conversation-starter I’ve been using more and more frequently as of late: I remember back when ...
For the record, I hate it. It used to really raise my hackles to hear my elders wax nostalgic about “the good old days.” I would respond with, “You mean ‘the good old days’ when minorities didn’t have any rights? Or, are you referring to ‘the good old days’ when you had to stand on the front porch with a sibling on your shoulders holding a coat hanger so you could watch one of the three fuzzy television stations you could get if the weather was just right? Or, do you mean ‘the good old days’ when you scalded yourself with molten-hot butter while trying to make a batch of popcorn?”
I guess I could have stuck with morally-outrageous examples instead of scrambled television stations and soggy popcorn, but, man, those things stunk on ice. I remember being directed by my father on what to do with the antenna until the reception would come in clear, only to sit back down and have the station go goofy while I was stuck with a small bowl of popcorn that was either too crispy to eat or too saturated in butter to ...
But I digress.
I started this column with the premise in my mind to discuss the lack of seasons. Remember spring? How about fall? I went out to my car Monday morning and had to scrape frost of my window. That was Halloween — which happens to take place on Oct. 31 every year, mind you. Last weekend there were parts of the state that got hit with snow. Again, last weekend took place in October.
It seems that fall went by faster than a Kardashian marriage.
I used to love fall. You could throw on a sweater or sweatshirt and go outside and play all day without ever getting too cold. Now, we go from scalding hot temperatures to three days of fall and the leaves changing, to two hours of the leaves all falling off the trees, to the sun setting at about noon for a week before we get slammed with ice and snow.
And it’s the same thing for spring. There used to be an “awakening” period where you would start to feel a little warmth on your face after a few months of cold weather, and then the sweet, sweet smell of manure from the farms would hit before you started playing golf in short-sleeved shirts again. Now you are freezing your tail off in sub-zero temperatures while snow piles up on your yard, and then the next morning Bobby Schaller shows up at your door in a Speedo and water wings shaped like ducks on his arms wanting to swim in the pool that was created on your lawn from melted snow.
I think we might have broken the planet.
And I think the mental image of Bobby in the Speedo might have broken my appetite. Nope. Still hungry.
Maybe I’m wrong about the seasons seemingly going away. Maybe it’s one of those deals where the time period of the seasons just seemed longer back then because as a kid I had a different perspective on things, like how I went back to my elementary school a few years ago and everything seemed so small to me, or how I used to think Joan Rivers was funny. You know, you get older and your views change.
But it just feels like we’re getting ripped off a little by the lack of seasons. Now we have hot and cold, with a few days of moderation in between. Is it global warming? Is it just me remembering things differently as an adult? Is it a conspiracy by big corporations to keep us buying swimwear and winter coats, as opposed to more reasonably-priced fare? Am I just grasping at straws to fill a column?
Please. Please forget I typed that last question.
By the time you read this it could be a beautiful fall day outside. Temperatures in the low 50s, with a little chill on the very tip of your nose and fingers after you’ve been out for a while. At that point, you’ll probably crack a small smile and offer thanks for a majestic autumn day.
But take advantage of it. Chances are you’ll be out there the next morning with a snow shovel, or cuddled up inside with some microwaved popcorn watching cable.