I write this morning on the day after Christmas and am musing over a Holiday salutation received from Chris Mitchell. Chris and I grew up together, her being in the house, the only house, next to the farm. Chris is a doctor’s daughter, but as a child underwent a curious transformation. Our farm became her paradigm, her life’s framework. She worked in the barn with us every day, not because she had to but because she loved to. Chris became the consummate farm girl.
In her recent note, she described an occasion from many years ago when she was all of age six. Chris was on her way up to the dairy barn when her Mom was summoning her back to the house for some reason.
“But, Mom”, Chris countered, “ The artificial inseminator is about to get here!”
This, of course, begs the question: How many six year old girls back then were conversant in matters of artificial insemination ? Chris sure was!
On another matter, I suppose it is just the ongoing wussification of America. In the spirit of full disclosure, it is also about my wussification. After all, here I am in Florida, getting away from the miserable winter in Jersey. I write, however, about a further level, one that even a wuss might recognize.
These weather alerts delivered by way of bells and whistles over the cellphone are beyond the pale! Yesterday, for example, was it really necessary to have everyone’s day interrupted by the dramatic tolling so that all hands are aware that tomorrow a “cold front” will sweep across Florida. The temperature will drop six degrees!!
As Marisa Tomei said in MY COUSIN VINNY, What a f- – – – ing nightmare! Our lives hang in the balance. The temperature today was 80 degrees. Do you realize what that means, all of you glued to your devices? Hell will freeze over here in sunny Florida, a precipitous drop to maybe even 74 degrees.
The nurses will wake you up when this is all over, assuming, of course, that you have survived !