I received an e-card today from a friend in Ohio. Apparently Ohio is far enough north to escape the snow that is threatening Atlanta, since they mention "hoping for and waiting for snow". I was reminded of how much I have changed since growing up in north-central Iowa.
Until the navy took me away from home hearth on Christmas was always a little damp from the wood brought inside. My first winter holiday in San Diego, I wrote home “Today, New Year’s Day, I swam in an outdoor pool.” I wouldn’t do that today as we are expecting a high of only 62 degrees. And that reflects my change. I am disappointed with my 62 degree weather. I have gotten used to choosing when I want snow and ice and for how long. Mary and I try to get to New York between Thanksgiving and Christmas to see a show or two, try new restaurants, see the decorations…and see the snow.
And then we return to what we expect will be the perfect climate people see when they watch the Rose Bowl. That’s become an entitlement as expected as Social Security. Maybe more so.
My grandchildren, who live across the street, are making plans to go snowboarding in our local mountains during their school vacation. There was a time when their parents were growing up when we would do that too, but today we will light the fire more for atmosphere than necessity. And my Christmas cards, finished yesterday, are filled with news other than the weather.
California news, like what celebrity we saw recently (Brad and Angelina), what to see New Year’s eve (“Black Swan” too dark, “True Grit” too long, “What Do You Know” terrible reviews), And our tax mess. Cheery news.
I bet I’m not the only transplant who has changed.