It’s snowing again along the Hudson River, and I’ve got to tell you, the cat is starting to look pretty tasty.
It’s time, too, to make a confession: my mother was right about something. Just one thing, just one time. But still. She was right. It’s hard for me to admit this, as I hope you will appreciate.
The subject of her rightness was the humble hat. It is true that if I wear a hat in cold weather, I get sick much less frequently. In my tender youth, I never wore a hat. “How was this possible?” I later wondered. “You had a year-long cold,” replied my girlfriend in Texas. “Every year.”
“The first time I saw you without a runny nose, you were 30,” replied a friend in New York.
My mother may or may not be right in the scientific bases for her assertion: I find suspicious, for example, her claim that a person loses precisely 3,712 percent of one’s body heat through the head. Thermodynamics was never her subject; neither was math. Yet it’s provably true that I’m healthier when I wear a hat. Thanks, Mom.