The news media was agog: after the worst drought in three
years, and no measurable precipitation for almost a year, it was going to RAIN!
Not just drizzle, it was going to pour. We were expecting more rain in three
days than we had had in almost 30 years.
Yes ladies and gentlemen, it was on. It was STORMWATCH 2014!
I find it pretty amusing that Los Angeles gets its
collective knickers in a knot whenever it rains. As a city we are even more distraught about a
quarter inch of rain than Atlanta is with two inches of snow. Except no one in Los Angeles would EVER
abandon their car on the 405. Unless Godzilla comes to life and picks up the
car and shakes its occupants out, we’re going down with the auto.
That doesn’t mean that Los Angelenos know how to drive when
it’s damp. Some would say we don’t know how to drive at all, but I digress. In
our defense, because it rains so seldom, oil and nasty stuff does build up on
the roadways, which makes it exceptionally slick when it’s wet. Also due to
terrible drainage, roads tend to flood. But that’s a rationalization.
The sensible reaction to all this would be to simply slow
down. Instead, most LA drivers clutch the wheel in a white knuckle panic and
step on the gas. They tailgate the driver in front of them as if that car is carrying
the last development deal on earth and
if they catch up, it’s theirs.
Or people just hole up in their homes and don’t leave until
the weather gets better. Seriously, people are actually afraid to leave their homes
if it’s raining. It is as if everyone in Los Angeles is related to the Wicked
Witch of the West and will melt if unimported water touches their surgery-freshened
faces.
I grew up in the East, in Connecticut, where we not only had
rainstorms; we had hurricanes. And snow. Nobody worried about driving in the
rain; it’s just what you did if you wanted to have a life. In New England, it is
unheard of to blow off plans due to weather unless the snow is dumping.
I was back there earlier this winter, and realized that I’ve
become quite a Southern California flower. If it was up to me, I’d have never
set foot outside. It was cold. I mean really cold.
I was in the Berkshires for almost two weeks, and except for
one day, when it was a balmy 20 degrees, it never got above four during the
day. We won’t discuss how cold it was at night.
During the day I had two small chores. I had to drive the
two miles to the Village center to pick up the mail and I had to fill the
outside birdfeeders. This meant I had to brave the wind chill. On went the
sheepskin lined boots. The scarf, the fuzzy hat, the mittens and of course, the
down jacket. By the time I was dressed I looked like the Michelin Man. I didn’t
care. The drive to the town was too short for the car heater to kick in, and
five minutes sitting in a car in that temperature is five minutes too long.
When I got back the bird feeders were waiting. Most people
have a feeder or two; mom has more than a dozen. They hang from poles and are
all outfitted with a complex system of baffles that are supposed to keep the
squirrels at bay. Actually, the squirrels have no trouble bypassing them. I,
however, do. Getting the feeders open on the best of days is a chore. Doing it wearing
mittens while standing on an ice floe becomes a sport worthy of the winter
Olympics. But I did it twice a day, with only a modicum of complaining. Okay,
there was an enormous amount of bitching. It was COLD for God’s sake!
Making it even worse, for reasons known only to the DirectTV
people, mom gets the West Coast feed for network news, so we were getting Los
Angeles weather. And it was taunting me. The temperature was in the mid-80s in
Los Angeles. People were complaining that it was beach weather. That there was
no winter this year. Apparently that was a problem.
Thing is, if I’d have been home, I’d be leading the whining pack.
Which is why now that we’re under STORMWATCH 2014! I’m keeping my mouth shut.
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