{"id":558,"date":"2010-08-08T23:02:39","date_gmt":"2010-08-08T23:02:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/garyborders.atomicnewstools.com\/pages\/?p=558"},"modified":"2012-01-28T23:06:03","modified_gmt":"2012-01-28T23:06:03","slug":"talking-about-a-heat-wave","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/garyborders.com\/pages\/talking-about-a-heat-wave\/","title":{"rendered":"Talking About a Heat Wave"},"content":{"rendered":"

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The day it reached 106 degrees in Junction City, according to both weather.com and the bank thermometer, I received a $388 electric bill. The house\u2019s two air-conditioning units struggled mightily to keep the air at 80 degrees inside while I wore minimal clothing after work and kept the ceiling fans circulating. Meanwhile, my beautiful mystery companion reported that the mercury was at 98 degrees in East Texas, though the humidity certainly made it feel every bit as miserable.<\/p>\n

There is simply no escaping summer in America.<\/p>\n

Oh, I forgot. My buddy Frank, who showed up here from Austin in time for Junction City\u2019s impressive fireworks show \u2014 not the one at the park but the unofficial festivities put on by the neighbors living within a couple dozen blocks, which rivaled the soundtrack to \u201cSaving Private Ryan \u2014 reported that his extended road trip landed him in Bend, Oregon. His sister lives there. The weather is lovely, he claims. Hang around, buddy, I thought. A heat wave is bound to arrive.<\/p>\n

|\u2014\u2014\u2014|<\/p>\n

\u00a0My kinfolks in New Hampshire, where I spent my first 13 years, endured a blast of furnace air about the same time we were enjoying a cool Kansas evening on the roof, listening and watching the fireworks light up a drizzly sky. Temperatures in early July hit 100 degrees in parts of the Granite State. That is 1,759 miles northeast of Longview, Texas, where my parents moved the brothers and me in June of 1968. It is 1,540 miles from Junction City, though not nearly as far north. (I love Mapquest.com. Just saying.)<\/p>\n

My resentment of summer surely stems from that move from New Hampshire to East Texas. If I still lived up among the Yankees it would be winter that riled me. I have never adjusted to the heat, though I endure. Last Saturday, I got a wild hare and once again trimmed down the wild growth in my yard \u2014 this time chigger-proofing myself successfully \u2014 and then mowed most of the grass.<\/p>\n

Big deal, you say. Big deal yourself. This yard is huge and on a hill, and I was using a self-propelled mower that cuts a measly 22-inch swath. It seemed like a good idea at the time. \u00a0Roughly a gallon of iced tea and a plate of vegetarian quesadillas from El Tapatio were required to restore my equilibrium. I\u2019m done mowing for the season and will speed dial the fellow with the big mowing machine next time the grass needs cutting.<\/p>\n

|\u2014\u2014\u2014|<\/p>\n

My parents upon moving to Longview immediately enlisted me in Boy Scouts, because my grandfather was the paid executive in those parts. Just a few weeks after arriving from New Hampshire \u2014 where the snow usually doesn\u2019t disappear from the dark crannies until early May \u2014 I was drafted into a 50-mile hike from Caddo Lake to Longview, to be endured over five days.<\/p>\n

\u00a0I fell out on the third day from heat exhaustion. My parents had to come rescue me, which was embarrassing. I have borne a grudge against summer since. Perhaps I should seek therapy. I used to think I should simply seek cooler climes after the summer solstice, but where? Times are hard and uncertain, even for the luckiest of us.<\/p>\n

The first fellow who befriended me at Troop 201 was Mickey Melton, a tall, rail-thin fellow, same age as me. We renewed acquaintances when I moved back to Longview in January 2008 as publisher of the paper, after being gone for 35 years. Mickey by then was a community leader, former school board member, one of the founders of a racial unity organization, a gentle soul. He called me soon after I returned and bought lunch. We talked about that ill-fated hike. Of course, he was kind about my failing to complete the journey \u2014 like me, a bit perplexed about my parents\u2019 judgment in sending a little Yankee kid on such a trek in the East Texas heat.<\/p>\n

Mickey was honored earlier this year with that city\u2019s Unity Award for his efforts over many years to promote racial healing. A few months later he died of an apparent heart attack while working on his farm. I will never recall that hike without remembering gentle Mickey \u2014 invariably stooped over when we talked because I was nearly a foot shorter.<\/p>\n

Summer will soon pass. The seasons soar by when you\u2019re my age. I need to do a better job enjoying this summer, though the temperature outside nearly outstrips my IQ. Each day is precious, even the searing ones.<\/p>\n

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