It was always called a "dry" heat. My dad gave me the expected lecture about how
Abe had to read his books on the hearth (which was still there), and do
his math on the back of a shovel. You could see their tiny butts sticking
out, so they were easy to remove."Dad," I said. "It's no big deal. We didn't
really have "humidity" in Phoenix. humming one of the little tuneless songs that constantly seemed
to rattle around in his head. Well, no car sickness, I thought to myself -
something I was very familiar with during my younger years living in Colorado. It was
more like moving upstream in a river than driving through rain. I glance over at
my sister for a sanity check, but she had her eyes screwed shut.Although it was
definitely against family protocol to make comments on my dad's driving, a sense of self
preservation came over me, and I ventured a comment in the calmest voice I could
muster, "Dad... There it was. This is nothing. No mountains. We'll just put some of
your mom's nail polish on them.""What does that do?" I asked hopefully."Oh, it suffocates them,
and they die," my dad said as he was lighting up his pipe again."They suffocate?"
I asked. With all the rain, I wasn't sure how anyone could see a funnel
cloud or anything for that matter. Wait'll the real rain starts."So we barreled along at
78 miles an hour, literally boring a hole in the water. Also, the sum total
of comfort systems for most cars back in those days consisted of heaters for the
winter and roll-down windows for the summer. Sure enough. He was humming a different tune
- something a little livelier than the previous version, but outside of that... The locals
call it "weather." As I said earlier, I found out it's what keeps them from
getting bored during the summer. They, however, just buried their heads into your skin. My
dad grew up in Ohio, so he was familiar with the area. My immediate thought
was that I had gotten into some poison ivy. Since the sessions would last most
of the summer, he decided it would be nice to take the whole family along.
I began to notice some very large, very dark, very ugly clouds forming above us.
What kind of a Hell-on-Earth place was this Illinois? Bugs that bury themselves in your
skin, rain like a waterfall, lightning strikes right next to the road. My dad's new
Zapatillas Puma '63 Chrysler Newport was humming along at its usual clip of about 78. I couldn't
see a thing out of the front window either, and to my horror, I noticed
that he hadn't reduced his speed at all.I could tell that my mom, a Denver
native, and not used to this crazed Midwestern way of driving, was tensing up. In
Illinois, my dad pointed out, you sweated just as much, but nothing evaporated. "Then what?""They
go away," he said."Go away? To where?""Your body absorbs them."Now I knew I was going
to be seriously sick. Straight out of OZ. I was gasping like one of the
rainbow trouts I use to pull out of the clean, cool Colorado rivers. I was
in the back seat on the passenger's side looking out at endless fields of something
green - all in hypnotic neat rows. you better shut your pie hole and get
to scribbling on that shovel or your face'll end up on the bottom of my
shoe rather than on that penny you're always talking about. I had a nice hike
in the very dense and beautiful woods, and it was very relaxing.Later that evening at
the motel, I began noticing that I was itching like crazy under my waistband. But,
how did these people keep from getting totally bored just living here? I found out
later that the weather took care of that.As we moved into Illinois I began experiencing
a total inability to breathe. Pretty soon, my dad said, "Oh, there's one," and pointed
straight ahead and a little to the left with his pipe. How could they be
worse than what we just came through? Should I worry about one? I began nervously
scanning the skies for funnel clouds. The terror of yesterday's storm had receded a bit,
and I began to appreciate the intensely green scenery.Well, we got to the site, and
looked around for a while. Pure adrenalin shot through my body as I watched the
lightning flash down the power lines (barely keeping up with dad's Newport) then crash into
a transformer creating a huge ball of fire that ultimately lost the race with my
dad as it fizzled out.Slowly as though I was in a dream, I looked over
at my dad. It sounded disgusting.After a very long drive through the desert and over
the Rocky Mountains we began crossing the plains states. Then, indeed, the real rain started.
Pretty soon continuous bolts of lightning flashed between them and rain began pouring down, not
Nike Tn in sheets, but more like one continuous sheet, like driving through a waterfall. "What the
hell are Chiggers?""Oh, they're a little insect that burrows into your skin and feeds on
your blood. It looked like the finger of a wrathful God destroying everything it touched."Shouldn't
we STOP or something?" I yelled."Naw. Penny! After a while, people won't even bother picking
them up anymore because you'll be the president who couldn't do math!"At that point, I
decided that I'd like to go for a walk in the woods. His only concession
to this violent act of God was to drop his speed from 78 to 75.
Shouldn't you slow down a bit?"My dad said, "Relax, son. The family car was the
only choice. Well... Even the roads weren't curvy. My dad told me it could get
pretty warm back there in the summer, but I was used to the blast of
hot air that you got from rolling down the window during the continuous Phoenix summer
heat waves. it's raining pretty hard. They're a little like ticks."Well, I knew about ticks
from Colorado. Oh, sure, I was taking in large quantities of air, but it was
so full of this "humidity" thing that there just weren't any oxygen molecules. I began
to think about "humidity" as the trout's revenge.But, that wasn't really the bad part. I
felt that I could withstand any summer weather.Of course my dad did mention something called
"humidity." This was a totally foreign concept to me. The bad part came as we
were heading for Carbondale. One year when I was a budding teenager (too young to
drive, but old enough to be horribly embarrassed to be seen with my parents) my
dad was asked to attend Southern Illinois University at Carbondale to take continuing education classes.
He was totally unperturbed - calmly smoking his pipe... "You mean they're completely buried inside
me?" I was about to be sick."Yea," he said. I could only see as far
as the power lines on the side of the road.I glanced over at my dad.
maybe sinners just naturally congregate in trailer parks or something.The next day, my dad thought
it would be good for us to see the cabin where Abe Lincoln grew up.
It's heading away from us," my dad replied.As I watched it move away from us,
I was struck with the thought that when God decides to do his wrath thing
on sinners, he's pretty indiscriminate about who meets his untimely end. In Colorado, I was
quite used to wandering about in the forest, so I wasn't a bit concerned about
getting lost. I imagined her saying to him, "I don't care what you think, Mr.
I became fixated on the only solid object I could see, those power lines next
to the car.As I watched them flash buy, suddenly a bolt of lightning hit the
lines right next to our car. I looked out my window again while the rain
picked up an intensity that I would never have thought possible. I guess that meant
that the huge amounts of sweat that you generated all summer would evaporate and leave
you cooler. future Great Emancipator. My sister had opened her eyes (far wider than I
thought physically possible) during the Wrath-of-God moment, and we just stared at each other for
a minute.My dad broke the silence by saying, "Nothin' really to worry about unless you
see a funnel cloud."Funnel cloud? I thought. I showed them to my dad , who
casually said, "Oh, you've just picked up some Chiggers, that's all.""Chiggers," I replied. I, however,
had grown up west of the continental divide (Colorado and Phoenix) safely protected by that
God-given barrier from all things eastern - and to my mind... his expression hadn't changed
a whit, and he was driving with just one hand while relighting his pipe with
the other.My mom, my sister and I had all stopped breathing (which is a gross
exaggeration of what physically happens in this humid hellhole under the best of circumstances). It
was weird to me. I'll tell you this for free, buster... potentially evil.In those days,
back in the early 60's, no one at our economic level thought about flying or
taking a train. No hills. You mean Tornado? Of course I had heard of those.
No one said a word as the storm faded away as quickly as it came.
My only thought was that this all happened so long ago that there was probably
a lot less math to learn, so what was the big deal? Besides, I figured
that his mother probably nagged him as much as mine did. It was a beautiful
day as we drove out to the site. I discovered that all around my waist
were little red bumps. It was insane, and I, for one, was glad to get
back to Arizona where the only thing I had to worry about were a few
poisonous snakes, scorpions, an occasional flash flood, a few fires, mud slides, and a nice,
comfortable dry heat..
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