Snow is a Four-Letter Word

I really have no one but myself to blame.  From the summer of 1995 until the summer of 1998, I lived i the beautiful, tropical city of Naples, Fla., on the warm shores of the Gulf of Mexico.  It spoiled me.  In In the three years I lived there, we had one morning below freezing, and that was only for about 30 minutes.  The coldest daytime high  temperature in the three years was 54 degrees.  You can see how one could get used to that.

I was never a big fan of winter growing up, and when I left St. Louis for Florida, and experienced the lack of winter on the southwest shores of Florida, my disdain for all things winter grew.

But good things never last.

I moved back to St. Louis for a year, and then on to Pocahontas in late 1999 when I married Marilyn.   While the Pocahontas climate is not as harsh as that of St. Louis, as we have seen today, it does snow here, it does get cold, and as we saw in 2009, we do get ice storms.    Anytime the weather turns cold or it starts to snow,  I always ask myself, "Why exactly did I leave Florida?"

I guess I have said it enough that everyone I know is aware of my hate for snow and winter.  I posted something on Facebook this morning about the snow being on the way and not being amused.  My friend Deshea tried to cheer me up and said she was dreaming of warm breezes and sandy beaches.    I went a step further and said, "'I'm thinking 80 degrees, the beach, the sound of the waves, a warm, gentle breeze in my face and sand between my toes sounds pretty good right now."   Others agreed.


When I went to the bank at noon, Jaunita, one of the tellers greeted me and said, "I would ask you how you like this weather, but I know how you like this weather."  Mel, another one of the tellers, came in a minute later and offered a cheerful, "how do you like the snow Dalton?"


Then to top it off, I get a text message from Kathy Scott, the wife of Tim Scott, who is the owner of the local radio station and one of my bosses.  Kathy texts, "I'm dreaming of a warm, tropical place, somewhere I haven't been before.  Where the sand pebbles glisten, and no one listens to hear school closings 'cause of snow."  

Oh, and I forgot to menton that one of our minsters at church, Stan Little,  decided to rub it in in a rhyming sort of way, "Oh the weather outside is frightful but Mr.Sullivan sounds so spiteful but insted of ME saying Whoa, I say let it snow, let it snow, let it SNOW!"

It's great to have friends.

Just in case there is any confusion, let me repeat  myself.  I don't like winter, and it would not bother me if I never saw snow again the rest of my life. 

Why exactly did I leave Florida?