This Yankee can't stand the heat

For many, summertime is a favorite time of the year.

It's a time when school is out and people take to the road to enjoy weekends at the lake or family vacations, have cookouts and go camping.

I used to love summers too. That is, until I moved below the Mason-Dixon line.

As many of you know, I grew up in Yankeeland, or Massachusetts to be more precise.

Up North we don't know the meaning of the word humidity.

The house I grew up in didn't have air conditioning. In fact, most of our cars didn't either.

It only got really hot for maybe a couple of weeks in late July and early August where you had to drag your window fans out to stay cool at night. The rest of the time it was pretty darn nice out.

We also didn't have to worry about getting eaten alive by mosquitoes which are often referred to as the state bird in many southern states.

I had heard that it got hot down South in the summer.

I was warned that I wouldn't like Florida when I decided to take a job and move from New Mexico to the Sunshine state. At the time I remember saying, "How can 14 million people be wrong?"

Oh boy was I ever wrong. I arrived in Florida in mid-May. Only true Floridians stay in Florida in the summer. The Yankees are smart enough to go back home where it isn't so hot.

I tried to like Florida. I really did. But I quickly found myself complaining constantly about the humidity. My apologies to those of you who may be from Florida, but I'm sorry, it was just plain miserable there in the summer. I still have no idea what the attraction of Florida is.

I managed to escape back West to Utah where the temperatures might reach 100 during the day in the dead of summer, but always cooled off nicely to the 60s and even 50s at night.

But then I moved back South to Southeast Alabama. I made a promise, though, that when I moved to Dothan I wasn't going to complain about the humidity like I did in Florida.

For the most part, I kept my promise. Oh there were plenty of times I was miserable in a shirt and tie and would come back sweaty and sticky from a story, but I didn't whine about it. I just dealt with it.

All I can say is, thank God for air conditioning. Otherwise, who in their right mind would move to the South? You know I'm right because it wasn't until the 1950s when air conditioning was invented that people finally started moving to Dixie in droves.

I feel bad, though, because now that the hot and humid weather is here, I'm basically going to hibernate inside my house until oh, say, November. It's not that there aren't places I want to visit and things I want to do. I just don't want to venture out when it is 98 degrees and 100 percent humidity. That, to me, isn't fun. That's just pure misery.

It's kind of funny in a way, because it is the complete opposite of what I am used to doing. Up North we stay inside when it is cold out in the dead of winter. I have this argument a lot with people, but I would rather be cold than hot because at least if you are cold you can put on a jacket and more layers. There's just so much you can take off though.

I might be able to handle the Southern summers better if I had a pool. I love to swim, but with the mosquitoes here, forget it. So to all of you Southern born and breds who love the humidity, you won't have to worry about me getting in your way on your way to the lake or waiting in line for the rides in Branson. This Yankee isn't coming outside for anything until it's at least 70 degrees again.