By JAMES LILEKS, Star Tribune
Last update: December 10, 2009 – 9:56 PM
I don’t like to complain about the cold, because it’s like getting a job at a slaughterhouse and whining that your white shirt is just ruined at the end of the day.
We live in Minnesota, and half the year our weather is either cold now or probably cold tomorrow. You know what you’re in for, soldier; suck it up. But should evolution suddenly produce a hardy Asian carp capable of bursting through the ice and going for your throat, and they only attack in January, you will not be allowed to say, “Oh, I hate our winters, and the jugular-ripping airborne carp” because according to some that’s part of life up here in the land of sky-blue water. In fact we would soon include the carp in our winter sporting traditions; real men would sit on the lake cradling rifles, waiting for the first carp of the season.
Yes, this is who we are: blue-lipped and shivering, but bearing up with stoic pride. Or, dead from exposure; it varies. I am particularly loath to complain because according to a history of North Dakota pioneers, my great-grandfather got lost in a blizzard while bringing in the bovines, and had to spend the night inside an expired cow. Ever have one of those nights in a strange place where you wake up and can’t quite remember where you are? I cannot possibly imagine thinking oh, right, tucked up in old Bessie.
Sleeping in a cow sets the standard for winter discomfort, as far as I’m concerned, and puts a little snow down the collar into perspective. But in the interest of complete disclosure and honesty, let us admit something:
1. It really is sad when a squirrel falls out of a tree and shatters.
2. You wish the weather people didn’t have to use the term “marrow-aching” for the wind.
3. We like feeling most of our fingers — not all of them; don’t want to get uppity and feel we deserve 10-finger feelin’, but seven, eight? They come in handy.
4. How about we don’t do this for the next five months straight?
If you read the comments on startribune.com for winter-storm stories, you’ll find wildly divergent opinions. Of course, a news story on the historic origins of rock-paper-scissors usually turns into a political flamewar in 10 comments, but weather stories seem to bring out a special kind of scorn. The news media are either guilty of hyping the storm — also known as “passing along the predictions of the National Weather Service” — or guilty of talking about this at all. It’s a storm, it’s snow, it’s cold, big deal. In one sense, I agree; anything under 3 feet should probably be treated as a second- or third-tier story.
On the other hand, should we not warn the customers that an enormous mass of killer cold is bearing down on our state? In Florida the air has to do something before it’s deadly; it has to form a hurricane, and even then it has to drop something on your head. Here the air can kill you just by being what it is. You go outside naked when it’s 8 below, stand there for a good while, and the air will just up and kill you. This is not how most people regard air, but we’re used to it. Allow us to hype it a little, OK?
Compromise: No one should complain about snow. We should rejoice in our bounteous crop, hail our winter wonderland holiday appearance, think of it as “hibernating rain.” Cold is different. Cold hurts. Cold does not build character.
Cold builds resolve, though; I’ll give it that much. As in: I resolve to be cremated. I may die here, but when it’s done I’ll be warm. And if someone drops the urn because his fingers are numb, well, that’s life in Minnesota. Bundle up.