A Chilling Reminder of the Winters You Left Behind

Drove to work Thursday with sunroof open, window down, shirt sleeves up, shades on. Then my mind began wandering. I pictured hopping up and down in a driving snow waiting for a bus on Alameda Street in Denver because I couldn’t get my car out of my garage. I remembered dozens of winter mornings when I lived in Nebraska, slip-sliding all the way to work on icy streets and wondering why the sandbags in the trunk weren’t providing better traction.

I almost started getting sentimental, but I knew what was really happening. It’s the ultimate California guilt trip--feeling bad because the winter weather here is so great. Perhaps, like me, you’ve migrated to Orange County. Perhaps, like me, you know you don’t deserve weather like this. It didn’t help that the night before on TV there were pictures of people shivering and snowbound in Detroit and Chicago.

Still, there’s a part of me that longs for a frigid morning, a part of me that thinks I, too, should be suffering.

So, for all you other guilty emigrants from the Rocky Mountains, Midwest, Great Plains and East Coast, the following scene is meant to remind you of what mid-January is supposed to be like. In other words, this is the column you’d be reading today if you’d never left home:

There wasn’t a spare table to be found Thursday at Lou’s, the best darn coffee shop in town. Patrons were huddled together like so many Herefords at roundup, and all anybody could talk about was the weather. You didn’t need to see the cloud of steam rising from 75 coffee cups to know it was 15 below zero outside with a wind chill of 40 below.

The electronic sign on the bank across the street said it was only 8:50 in the morning.

“Sh-e-e-eez,” said Jim, a stockbroker, looking out the window at the hapless souls walking backward to avoid the windy daggers of the street. “This is the coldest ever. My car wouldn’t any more turn over this morning than Abraham Lincoln, and you know how long he’s been dead.”

“Did you take the bus in?” said the guy on the swivel seat next to him, a stranger named Frank.

“Yeah. It was supposed to come at 6:55, and it got there at 7:45. Nearly froze to death at the bus stop. Then I had to stand up the whole way in. I had so many clothes on I nearly passed out. Took me an hour to get here, and it’s supposed to be a 20-minute ride.”

“Be thankful the bus came at all,” Frank said, gripping his coffee cup with both hands to warm himself. “I waited for an hour but I finally decided to stick my thumb out and hitch a ride. You’d be amazed at the people who will pick you up on a day like this. They’d never do it in good weather. Some guy in a four-wheel drive went 5 miles out of his way to drop me off here.”

“It’s got something to do with people sharing a common burden,” Jim said. “I hear they do the same thing in California whenever they have an earthquake.”

“I doubt it,” Frank said. “They’re nuts out there.”

“Too much sunshine,” Jim said. “Not good for you. Knocks you out of life’s natural rhythm.”

“Yeah, right,” Frank said. “Look at that poor guy,” he said, pointing to a fellow outside with his car hood raised.

“Forget it, buddy. It’s a goner,” Jim said. “I’ve never seen it to fail. Weather hits like this and not a store in town has a battery. Or antifreeze.”

“You got any water at your house?” Frank asked.

“Nope, the pipes froze up yesterday. I’d say it’s 50-50 they’ll burst.”

“You’re supposed to keep a trickle of water running when it gets this cold, you know,” Frank said.

“I’m supposed to bring my car battery inside, too, but what can I say, I’m an idiot.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of winters like this?” Frank said.

“Every winter I get tired of winters like this,” Jim said. “Every winter is going to be the last one. How about you?”

“Been saying that for the last 34 years. And I’ll meet you here next year, and we can have the same conversation.”

Jim looked at the bank building across the street and noticed the temperature had risen. It now was only 14 below zero.

“Fourteen below,” he yelled cheerily at the cafe full of strangers. “Heat wave!”

Everybody in the place began applauding and whistling. An unspoken camaraderie hung in the air, like the ever-present smell of pancakes on the griddle.

“Let’s make a vow,” Jim said.

“What’s that?” Frank said.

“Forget that stuff about too much sunshine. Before next winter, let’s move to California. I’m getting too old for this.”

“You’re on,” Frank said. “I’ll give you my address here and you give me yours. The first one who moves writes to the other guy.”

“It’s a deal,” Jim said. “Can you imagine driving to work in mid-January with the top down on your car?”

“No way,” Jim said. “Nobody deserves to have it that good.”

Footnote:

NEW YORK (UPI) -- The high temperature reported Thursday by the National Weather Service . . . was 78 degrees at . . . Santa Ana, Calif. Thursday’s low was 22 degrees below zero at Alamosa, Colo.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif. 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.