I like winter better than summer. Always have. Winter demands an urgency and seriousness of purpose that Summer cannot – and does not want to – match. People walk a little faster when it’s cold outside. They involuntarily hunch their
I like winter better than summer. Always have. Winter demands an urgency and seriousness of purpose that Summer cannot – and does not want to – match.
People walk a little faster when it’s cold outside. They involuntarily hunch their shoulders and set their gaze directly ahead and take the most direct route to wherever they’re going. You do not loll when you might freeze to death.
But I’ve never been a loller. I prefer the bustle of winter to the languidness of summer. I’d rather stride than stroll. Shiver than sweat. Bundle up than strip down.
Winter doesn’t allow any time to waste. It doles out daylight in tiny doses, making the daytime all the more precious. Summer, the lazy bastard, dumps it out freely, giving the misimpression that there’s plenty of time to do everything. In the winter, you get where you’re going. In the summer, you take the long way home.
Winter is “Hurry up!” Summer is “Are we there yet?” In the winter, you have to keep moving to keep warm, so you get things done. In the summer, it’s too hot to go fast, so you slow down.
I don’t like it.
I’ll take a blizzard over a hurricane, a flurry over a sunshower, dry over muggy.
When it’s cold, you can put on a sweater and be fine. When it’s colder, you can put on a parka (I recommend L.L. Bean’s Maine Warden’s Parka) and be fine. There’s always something else: flannel-lined jeans, PrimaLoft boots…something. But when it’s hot, there’s only so much you can take off. I like the coziness of winter, the way the cold air feels on my face and in my lungs. I like the way the short days remind me how valuable time is. Today, the shortest day of the year – or is it the longest night? – is the first day of winter. The final season of this wretched year and the first of the next year, which beckons with promise and hope. It’ll be cool in my beloved Maine today – the high in Portland is 34. In my new hometown of West Hollywood, it’ll get up to 81 (which Mainers refer to as “summer”), although it’ll tumble to 48 (which Mainers refer to as “summer”) later in the day.
I’m neither place today, although I’m thinking of both. Of course, I’m thinking of you, and wishing you a joyous, productive winter.
Sometimes, writing character names is satisfying. I always like the last name “Flam,” which sounds like “Phlegm.” I went to school with a guy named “Flam.” First name was Flim. A real no-goodnik. None of that is true. But this
Sometimes, writing character names is satisfying. I always like the last name “Flam,” which sounds like “Phlegm.” I went to school with a guy named “Flam.” First name was Flim. A real no-goodnik. None of that is true. But this is: Today I wrote the name “Ford Diminimus.” Possibly DeMinimus. That’s the thing about writing for the ear rather than the eye. “Ford DeMinimus” isn’t a great eye name. But it’s good for radio. I kinda like “Ford Sarcophagus,” too.
