And then it turned cold. There are two kinds of cold. There is the kind that makes you think, “Shoot, I should have put on another layer of clothing.” And then there is, “Shoot, that extra layer of clothing has frozen to my flesh … and my toes have turned black … and I can’t feel my eyeballs … or see out of them …”
And a few other choice details that make you realize bears have it right when they think, “Skip that! I’m going to sleep it off in a warm cave all winter.”
But not us humans. And not us Floridians. See, some of us get it in our head that it would be great to escape the nagging Florida heat with a long weekend in the mountains of North Carolina to see some changing leaves and fall weather.
Doesn’t that sound wonderful?
That is, until a polar wave that turned the Midwest into a frozen ice rink raced across the area, bringing winds gusting to 50 mph and temperatures plunging to 18 degrees. The high didn’t even get above freezing one day. “There’s a big, burning ball of hydrogen right there,” I remember thinking. “How is this possible?!?”
This is too much for a third-generation Floridian. But my wife loved it. It took her back to her childhood growing up on Long Island where winters got so cold, you sat around all day by a fire drinking hot cocoa, reading books and dreaming about going to college in Florida.
“This is my ideal vacation,” she said in the vacation rental, arms out like Julie Andrews in “The Sound of Music.”
“Ideal?!?” I said. “I put a cup of water outside last night, and not only did it freeze, it cursed me out. I’ve only been up for 20 minutes and I’m already bored stiff. I’m thinking about re-drywalling their back room.”
I don’t like being cooped up. I like to be outside. Doing stuff. Wandering around or hiking or running or staring at rocks and thinking, “I bet there’s a big nugget of gold in there the size of my kidney.”
But the truth is, I don’t know how big my kidney is. And I knew if I went outside, that organ of mine would definitely freeze.
Outside I saw some deer dash by the window. “Stop!” I shouted. “Wait for me!”
They kept going. I would have to figure out a way to be content inside.
So, I did the unimaginable: I picked up a book, curled up on a sofa and read.
And something quite incredible happened. I kind of liked it!
I mean, it was excruciating. Lounging on a sofa when I could be experiencing cold-induced renal failure? But with no worries, no projects, no timelines or checklists, and no schedule. It was kind of … good. Contentment? Is that what it is? I looked it up: “a state of happiness and satisfaction.” It gave a sample sentence: “He found contentment in living a simple life in the country … when it got too dang cold to go outside.”
Yep, that’s it! So, I drank coffee and read my book, and thought, maybe the bears had it right. Or maybe they should move to Florida.