Before I get too carried away, I’d like to begin with a heartfelt apology. Later, hopefully, you’ll humor me as I try to redeem myself.
Having committed the cardinal sin of reporting out of turn to you, the reader, returning now as humbly as I can is the only proper course of action for me to take – one that I accept wholeheartedly – so here goes.
Last week, Wednesday June 20, marked the start of summer. On the previous Monday however, I wrote – however prematurely – about the NBA Finals. In doing so, I made no mention of the changing of the seasons.
Clearly a far better subject to address than a Finals series tied at 1-1 that, in obvious retrospect, would be far more appropriate today; once the official outcome of the Championship (heartbreak) was known.
Hindsight can be painful. I realize now that I could have (should have) written on the temperamental majesty that is Mother Nature. On her changing seasons, on what one can expect and avoid during this, her worst of moods, summer.
Since last Monday, all I’ve heard through various media reports is how hot it is. Jimmy Fallon, from SNL and Late Night with Jimmy Fallon fame, took to Twitter on June 20 to announce a new “hashtag game!”
The subject, “it’s so hot” (spoken, #itssohot), was to be sent with a pithy little quip about how hot it was. But on June 20 in New York City , it only reached 94 degrees with a median of 82 degrees. Granted, it was warmer than their average, but it wasn’t record setting.
Meanwhile, here in Phoenix , the city that knows nothing but summer and being hot, it reached 109 degrees with a median of 94 degrees. Not record breaking, but to my point, very much the status quo.
Arguments from the peanut gallery advocating the presence of humidity being a viable factor will not be acknowledged. I’ve been there, got the shirt to prove it. Humidity claims are a crutch.
Having been someone who has been places too hot, too cold – even those just right, I can speak on such matters. I can address the novices of summer, of heat. To those in question, know this: somewhere after 90 degrees all humor on the subject of summer ceases to exist. Hot is hot, plain and simple, it isn’t funny.
Watching people “cook an egg on the sidewalk” isn’t news, it isn’t entertaining and it shouldn’t be documented – let alone broadcasted to the four corners of the world.
One might assume, rightly or wrongly, that I am just bitter over having written a column out of time or that I’m simply exercising my frustrations after watching the Oklahoma City Thunder lose to the Miami Heat (of all the teams, of all the times of theyear).
Maybe there is something to both of those claims; there is little I can do of my perception now. Understand, however, that my depth of loathing summer months knows no bounds. As quickly as summer comes, as long as it takes to go away, regardless of how warm (or humid) it becomes, I despise it that much more.
This is a dreadful time of year, it isn’t fun. I wish I had warned you all when there was still time. Hopefully we can move forward, never speaking of the weather again.
Follow the reporter at @JOMOFO40
Reach the reporter at jbfortne@asu.edu
