Summer Me

To paraphrase a line from William Shakespeare’s Richard the Third, Act 1, scene 1, “[Then was] the winter of our discontent.”

Gone are weeks upon weeks of unseasonably cold days and freezing nighttime temperatures, testing the wills of people with the mindset that the Sunshine State should always and forever provide weather conditions conducive to wearing shorts, T-shirts, tank tops and sandals as they bask in the sun beneath the shade of beach umbrellas on sandy beaches or lounging on open air pool decks with coolers filled with such thirst quenchers as bottled water and cans of beer.

Whew! We sure missed out on a lot this past winter! The proof of the matter came with a report from the National Weather Service that the average temperatures in the Tampa Bay area were about seven degrees below normal, the coldest winter since 1914 when data were first kept.

Surely, these past months have led to many a conversation that reinforced some people’s beliefs that the global warming scenario is more a contrived script of fiction than it is a fact of scientific research. Never mind international government assessments to the contrary – a statement released last fall from the G-20 Summit read, “We underscore anew our resolve to take strong action to address the threat of dangerous climate change.”

The few reprieves from global warming chitter-chatter were worrisome exchanges on health care reform, the unwavering disdain between Republicans and Democrats, and the squabble mongering from Tea Party enthusiasts. The unknowns of the health care bill are so numerous that the debate will go on and on for years, as will the daily droll about the weather.

And yet, some of us truly appreciated the brisk, fresh air that provided a respite from using no-drip 12-hour pump pray mists for temporary relief from constant bouts of inflammation of the nasal passages. Too soon, airborne pollen put an end to those free-breathing days; colorful patches of yellow still lay in contrast to the gray-painted floor on my back porch.

People who may have suffered most of all are those stricken with hypothyroidism. Layers upon layers of clothes, including sweatshirts and insulated coats, still left some in bone-rattling shivers. Even prescribed medications were unable to overcome the symptoms of the disease. Since I couldn’t imagine the discomfort, empathy was replaced with sympathy by turning up the thermostat a few degrees.

Fortunately, spring is now securely upon us with daytime temps hovering around eight degrees and, finally, the opportunity to get a little burned while soaking up the warmth of the sun. Caution: melanoma can be safely treated in its early stages – otherwise the cancer can be a life-threatening disease. But, oh, isn’t it so worth it to wear upon the face and body a deep, dark tan?

Within weeks, sunshine supermen will be mowing, trimming, landscaping and sweating under the blazing hot sun through twelve-hour days of sunlight. Soon, a growing number of pickup trucks will be on the roads hauling lawn equipment and loads of debris on trailer-beds. As they add to traffic congestion, and annoy the heck out of aggressive drivers and scare the pants off timid slowpokes, get over yourself and be grateful that hundreds of your fellow citizens will spend a few months making money that hasn’t been there since last fall.

In this economic climate, the added flow of currency will lead to an increase in consumer spending, thus bringing income to local businesses that will need to replace inventory and perhaps add to their payrolls. Anyway, that’s the way capitalism is supposed to work as a means to get us out of our economic doldrums. Most of us have a relative, friend or neighbor who will benefit from what will hopefully be a work-filled rainy season.

We’re also just a few weeks away from hurricane season. It’s an unknown equation but meteorologists foresee increased activity, quite different from the past few years. If El Nino weakens this year as predicted, Florida may see its first named hurricane hit landfall since Wilma crossed over the southern part of the state in October 2005.

That said, a heavy rainfall might also shake and shimmy your home and bodies as layers of limestone crumble beneath the sandy surface and create the dreaded sinkhole.

Never mind the falderal. It's all iffy stuff anyway. Duke ended March Madness winning the 2010 NCAA Tournament Championship. Tiger Woods is back in the swinger’s circuit in the Masters. The Red Sox won the MLB season opener. There you have it – baseball, the quintessential sign of summer. Water parks, barbeques and vacation trips are just a flip of the calendar away.

Winter has passed. Spring is here. But to quote Henry James, “Summer afternoon, Summer afternoon… the two most beautiful words in the English language.”

Conservative Me

When I purchased my first home at age 40, I took the conservative route imbedded in my rational thought process from childhood. Farmers don’t lead extravagant life styles and, as was the case with my family, vacations are few and far between so money is very precious.

If it weren’t for weekend trips “up north” Cranberry Lake near Houghton, MI, which was a mere two hour ride, and if not for the cabin built by Uncle Jerry, there would have been no vacations. Fortunately, Jerry and Ethelyn gave us four kids many summer trips to the cabin while dad and mom enjoyed a few peaceful days alone.

In the early 60’s the tranquility of rowboat fishing and dog-paddling around the dock, which Jerry had also built, gave me the best of summers. Coleman lanterns, a gas stove, a grill and a flashlight for those frightful tip-tow nighttime trips to that god-awful, spider-infested, gross-smelling outhouse were exciting experiences. They give me happy-heart memories. I’m still grateful for the simple things in my life.

I couldn’t have wanted for more. Having food a-plenty and a safe, secure and loving home life with a brother and sisters to play with were sufficient. My best friend, Chucky, whose dad worked at the Oldsmobile factory in Lansing, went on vacations to such places as Yellowstone. I was invited to go along but no one, not even Chucky, felt the degree of dismay as myself. It had nothing to do with me personally; it was asthma that kept me feeling down on the farm.

What was initially a bit of jealousy was quickly replaced with the sad fact that I would miss a significant part of the summer without bike riding, playing ball and the little adventures a couple of buddies have as kids. Those two weeks were among the worst of my life.

I’m liberal with some of my thoughts, but for the most part I lay in a stagnant pool of conservatism. Since I didn’t know Mr. and Mrs. Jones, thus having no one to keep up with, and a non-player of the social games that people play, when I sought the help of what’s-his-name, who was more a realtor than a friend, my goal was to take on a home loan that would leave me secure in a castle but well within my financial means.

I ignored words that told me that told me I could afford a home of such-and-such a value. I ignored the suggestion that an adjustable rate mortgage would be right for me but I feared it would cost me an arm and a leg if/when rates went up. After a couple of years I refinanced, not only reducing the monthly payments but also narrowing the freedom of owning the home outright from 25 to 15 years and still chipping away until it was paid off a year earlier.

I followed the same course of reasoning when I moved from Orlando to Spring Hill. I got more home for less money with cash left over that was spent on upgrading carpeting and kitchen appliances, painting the interior with semi-gloss for longer lasting, more easily maintained walls and buying a 48” plasma TV. For the most part, these were true investments. Although there’s too much credit card debt thanks to home insurance, property taxes and “the unexpecteds” of life, I’m still a mortgage-free homeowner, guaranteed to have a roof over my head.

I had the same philosophy of survival when I left home at the age of 20 with all my belongings stacked in a wholly-owned ’69 Gremlin with enough saved for a year’s rent paid in advance. No one could understand my reasoning but, since I was all alone and insecure in foreign surroundings, I could fill my tummy with many nights of macaroni and cheese, which is healthy gourmet food at that age, without the worry of living on the street or, heaven forbid, giving up and retreating to the given security of living in someone else’s home, namely my parents. I was young, free, determined and responsible enough to make it on my own. Living conservatively has always fit like a glove to my needs.