Boy it's hot

By Mary Lou Sartor

It’s evening now, and chores have been set aside for another day. My swollen feet are talking to me.

Some folks blame global warming for this extremely hot and humid weather pattern. It could be, but I have been around a long time. I have known the mercury to reach triple-digit readings on the thermometer for several summers.

In the good old days of my youth, we did not have sophisticated weather-tracking systems, so we were ill-prepared to handle climatic conditions that befell us. On those scorching hot days, we endured without sunscreen, sports drinks, and air conditioners. The best we had was straw hats, Kool-aid and a shady spot under the tall, fully filled-out oak tree at break time. Our three-room house held the heat of those days like a well-stocked cook stove. The only things that came close to a fan was tooled out of newspapers. Once in a while, we took turns swinging the fly swatter toward flies that clung to the screen door, especially early evening. No one thought to practice safe food handling as much as we do today. It never seemed to bother us.

At night the only breeze we felt,if any, came in the north window of our family’s common bedroom.

The air quality was poor. The house was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Dad reminded me of

Little Jimmy Dickens; slept at the foot of his bed, gathering in all of the good air before it passed him and could find us.

When my brother, Johnny, and his first wife parted, we inherited his 20-inch floor fan. We felt right uptown. The highest setting did a good job moving the stale air out and giving us much relief. The little fan that could do double duty in those days. At night it cooled the bedroom, and during the day, it circulated the hot air in the cook’s kitchen. Those days would find Mom laboring over a hot coal range or a three-burner oil stove. Yes, that is how hot it was on the hottest days and nights at our house back in the good old summertime.

My father and mother owned other fans in later years, long after I left the nest, but the old house still held the heat during hot spells. In the late’80’s, the house they called home since 1939, where all began for me, was destroyed by fire. The folks purchased a Fleetwood mobile home. It had far more amenities than the old house. Central Air came with the package. I was afraid that Dad would worry about the electric bill, but he loved what the system provided.

I sometimes think it would be nice to visit those summers I knew, if only for a little while. That

That would be cool!

Thanks to my readers that I heard from this week. I can be reached by phone at 317-286-7352.