My Thoughts on Air Conditioning
I grew up in the shadow of my Grandfather. He was cantankerous. In fact, his picture is in the dictionary next to it. But, he lived in a house with indoor plumbing and had horses. Two things that made him tolerable to a five year old.
I remember once, on a Sunday after church, him sitting us all down in a restaurant and then getting us all up and leaving because he couldn’t see that a hamburger platter was worth 50 cents. It just wasn’t logical. And he was a logical man.
I don’t believe he ever watched Star Trek, but I think he would have liked Mr. Spock, had he gotten over the illogical concept of space flight. He died, secure in the knowledge that man had never really landed on the moon. No, for him, he was sure it had only been a Hollywood sound stage.
God only knows what he would have thought of cell phones, but I figure he would have bought one to put out on the tractor. Of course I could be wrong. I can still remember him poo pooing the concept of an air conditioned cab on a tractor. He never had one, didn’t intend to. He didn’t have one on his combine either.
I’m not sure he would recognize the combines of today. Of course I don’t think it would matter, if he were still alive today he’d be a 102 years old and probably wouldn’t care.
Now I’m not opposed to air conditioning myself. I enjoy it. Without it the weather would be intolerable for the soft bundle of mush I’ve become. But I can still remember when air conditioning meant a swamp cooler that was ran sparingly. It filled the air with moist coolness that smelled great coming out in that great steady gust.
But I also remember that an air conditioner went off in the evening when the extended family gathered. Ice cream would be cranked out by hand, each of us taking
our turn setting on the burlap bag atop an old wooden freezer. Guitars would come out, bats would dive in the dusk, the family would sit on the porch and talk of things, we younger ones would sit in the dark, hot from chasing fireflies, content to look up into the night sky for shooting stars. Always looking the wrong way when one came. But we kept looking. The older folks would sing. “I’ll Fly Away, old glory, I’ll Fly away”, and other hymns that were the musical staples. Uncle Ray would play Bill Anderson when he could squeeze it in. And then we would go home. Falling asleep in the back of the car.
Recently, I made it home to a family reunion. It was hot. I noticed the guitars cases. I looked forward to the evening. But the heat continued. The air conditioner kept running. No one made a move for the porch. Finally it all broke up and the guitars stayed in their cases.
And I rode home, awake all the way. I can’t blame it on air conditioning, but it did make me think maybe, just maybe, my grandfather was right.
I remember once, on a Sunday after church, him sitting us all down in a restaurant and then getting us all up and leaving because he couldn’t see that a hamburger platter was worth 50 cents. It just wasn’t logical. And he was a logical man.
I don’t believe he ever watched Star Trek, but I think he would have liked Mr. Spock, had he gotten over the illogical concept of space flight. He died, secure in the knowledge that man had never really landed on the moon. No, for him, he was sure it had only been a Hollywood sound stage.
God only knows what he would have thought of cell phones, but I figure he would have bought one to put out on the tractor. Of course I could be wrong. I can still remember him poo pooing the concept of an air conditioned cab on a tractor. He never had one, didn’t intend to. He didn’t have one on his combine either.
I’m not sure he would recognize the combines of today. Of course I don’t think it would matter, if he were still alive today he’d be a 102 years old and probably wouldn’t care.
Now I’m not opposed to air conditioning myself. I enjoy it. Without it the weather would be intolerable for the soft bundle of mush I’ve become. But I can still remember when air conditioning meant a swamp cooler that was ran sparingly. It filled the air with moist coolness that smelled great coming out in that great steady gust.
But I also remember that an air conditioner went off in the evening when the extended family gathered. Ice cream would be cranked out by hand, each of us taking
our turn setting on the burlap bag atop an old wooden freezer. Guitars would come out, bats would dive in the dusk, the family would sit on the porch and talk of things, we younger ones would sit in the dark, hot from chasing fireflies, content to look up into the night sky for shooting stars. Always looking the wrong way when one came. But we kept looking. The older folks would sing. “I’ll Fly Away, old glory, I’ll Fly away”, and other hymns that were the musical staples. Uncle Ray would play Bill Anderson when he could squeeze it in. And then we would go home. Falling asleep in the back of the car.
Recently, I made it home to a family reunion. It was hot. I noticed the guitars cases. I looked forward to the evening. But the heat continued. The air conditioner kept running. No one made a move for the porch. Finally it all broke up and the guitars stayed in their cases.
And I rode home, awake all the way. I can’t blame it on air conditioning, but it did make me think maybe, just maybe, my grandfather was right.