Six Degrees Of Refrigeration

I originally wrote this entry on February 12, 2016. However, it seemed appropriate for a re-posting today as my family in New York awaits a blizzard and over a foot of snow on its way to the north east. It reminds me what I left behind and which I desperately miss. Of course I don’t miss the snow only my family and doggies sitting around the fire. And don’t get me going about our beautiful grandson, EJ, and how much we would love to be with him.

So, back to the past however frigid it may have been.

When I went out to start the car today at 5:45 AM I was greeted with a blast of frigid air. I started thinking about why people chose to live here, East Quogue, New York or the northeast, in the first place?

I mean why would you stay here after that first winter? Surely our indigenous peoples had better options. They crossed the land/ice bridge to get the hell out of Siberia, why didn’t they continue south? Well, of course, some did and maybe others did settle in more temperate climes but were asked to leave by the new arrivals of the fifteenth century.

These new settlers had options, however, and chose to put up with the cold.

I then started thinking about how they dealt with such harsh weather. I am complaining about having to leave a centrally heated home to start a car that would soon be toasty enough to take me to my equally toasty train (I am not going to write about cracked rails or frozen subway switches). I also didn’t have to kill anything to get my coat from Lands End.

Nevertheless, I am not going to go the way of the Iroquois or the people of the Mayflower Compact. I mean to follow the sun, find me a beach, and bang my drum all day at a Tiki Bar.

Happy Friday everyone!

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