28 January 2009

Cabin Fever

I’ve been out of practice, where snow is concerned, thanks to my residence the past few years in a place that’s not concerned with snow. All of my old habits, and my snow boots, were set aside. But now I’m getting a crash-reintroductory course. And I’ve been reminded that the only important difference between a Currier & Ives print and the Donner Party is a question of timing.

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.



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