Shifting Seasons

Ramblings about the weather:

Tuesday, October 15, 2019

A cold front is about to blow through. I looked out my window to see a surreal depiction of my driveway cast in amber, from a sky split between a golden sunset and an ominous black torrent. I tried to capture it in a photo, but the image doesn’t do it justice.

The thunder is rolling in, and the lighting is stabbing through my peripheries. I would say, that I hope I don’t lose power during the storm, but that would be disingenuous. To be honest, I would prefer an outage, darkness, and boredom, walking around with dimly lit candles, feeling like an 18th-century ghost. Sometimes I hope for the power just to stay down. Shattering the grand illusion that we are all connected, all the time, through tiny glowing screens.

I wonder if humanity could withstand such a regression.

Some of the most memorable moments in my life took place when the weather shook things up. Sleet covered bushes and sidewalks were treasures for a young Nobody when school was canceled. Candlelit card games when the power would go out. The cherished snow days where college students would gather clumps of loose snow from the hoods of cars and bombard each other in the streets. Those moments that brought everyone out of their homes to witness the spectacle of an eclipse. Not only were those moments memorable, but they were also times where I felt more connected to the people around me than ever. Sharing a collective experience in our total lack of control.

Maybe I should join a commune… On second thought, no.

My parents used to tell me that I was born in the wrong generation. They perceived me to be some flower child that would have blossomed in the ’70s. I can’t say that I disagree. I used to watch television on a cheap old TV that a friend and I had boosted from someone’s curb. We thought it looked like something from the ’70s, so we painted it up with bright flowers and psychedelic patterns. It was aptly named “The Groove Tube.” We fashioned an antenna out of a crumpled-up strip of aluminum foil and adjusted the angle until we could pick up two channels. One of them was entirely in Spanish…

Hablo un poco

When watching the “That 70’s Show” on the groove tube, I remember yearning for a time when we weren’t so dependent on technology for our day-to-day encounters. Everything required more interaction; resolving conflicts required genuine engagement from both parties. Breakups during the ’70s either had to be face-to-face or over the phone. I doubt many people ended relationships with strongly worded letters. If someone was close to you, then they knew your daily schedule and routines. If they called looking for you and you weren’t home, they may have no idea where you had gone. People had to know more about each other for a friendship or relationship to even be possible. I look back on these times and wish that I could have the experience of living in a world that still relied on physical interactions as the primary source of socializing. Today just feels so disconnected.

I wish I could turn everyone’s phone off, just for a few days.

I can’t wait for the cold to stick. I find so much more enjoyment in these dreary months than I do broiling in the Texas sun. I can only blame genetics. The October weather has always intrigued me. Shifting from hot sunny days to cold autumn nights with volatility. It’s as if the heat and cold are in a game of tug-o-war. Except by the end of October, the cold will always win.

 I can feel a chill settling into my room now. I’m looking forward to giving my overworked air-conditioning unit a break and donning my favorite hoodie. Maybe I will watch a few episodes of “That 70’s Show” and reminisce on simpler times.