Herb Benham: That Furnace Blast of Heat Knocked the Wind Right Out of Us
By Herb Benham, The Bakersfield Californian
May 22–I feel like I’ve lost my virginity. I can’t wear white anymore. The consequences are daunting too.
I’m talking about the heat wave we went through recently. That was no wave, that was a Tsunami. It drowned our optimism and slew our belief that spring is spring and summer is something else.
Sunday, I saw a guy standing under a tree by the skate park at Beach Park. He had dismounted from his bike, although he might tell you at least he didn’t fall off. His wife was standing by him giving him one of those “You’re not going to die on me right now, are you” looks.
He wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure. No one was sure, and if you were sure, you were just trying to be brave.
His expression was clear. He didn’t have to say anything. His face said it all: “I can’t believe this is only May. Mid-May. Not even late May.”
I know. Don’t say it. We’ve had hot Mays before.
Yes, we’ve had hot Mays, but even if it was a year ago, a year of valley time is like 10 years of time at a place, a pleasant place, like the mountains.
Once we’re through with summer, once we’ve crawled to the finish line, we do everything in our power to put it behind us, forget about it, revel and roll in whatever cool weather we are allowed.
Call it naivete, call it bone-headed stupidity because although we know summer is coming like that huge black, smoking freight train that it is, we nurse the hope that maybe summer will forget about us, and if it doesn’t, that this summer will be a cool one. Like the one we had back in 19…, I can’t remember; that was a long time ago.
Yes, we were stunned. Shell-shocked. Last week’s tsunami turned a town full of reasonably healthy people into 300,000 new cases of post-traumatic stress syndrome.
I took a couple of bike rides early in the morning. Most everybody who was going to exercise was exercising and they all had the same panicked looks on their faces.
“I have to finish this fast. I must get home. The window is shutting.”
No, the window isn’t shutting. It closed. Hard. Right on our fingers.
Even cool was warm. Warm was hot. Hot was dummifying.
The water heated up during the bike ride. It was so hot you could make tea.
Sunday, our air conditioner came on at 8 a.m. and went off at 9 p.m. So much for having a light carbon foot print. You could put an elephant in our footprint and have enough for a whale too.
This is when you want to have a pool. If you don’t have one, it’s time to take back all the bad things you’ve said about people with pools and repair those relationships. I suggest bringing over a six pack of something.
Sunday, at around 2 p.m., I was at a mini storage on the corner of Truxtun and Oak. My daughter couldn’t have picked a hotter time to move. Yet, she is an optimist and was looking on the bright side of a bright day.
“Dad, at least this is east-facing so it won’t be as hot,” Katie said.
Won’t be as hot? Compared to what? A yard full of steel pipe? An attic?
Yes, our virginity is gone. Swept away by a giant wave. It will take more than a few days of cool weather to restore our virtue.
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