Tuesday
Jul272010
I'm Hot. You're Hot. We're all Hot.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010 at 9:30AM
I was standing on the corner of 116th Street, dripping wet. The temperature hovered around 100 degrees. I had just walked through the sprinkler in the playground in Morningside Park. I was on the look out for Pamela.
She e-mailed me. “Does your fee fluctuate according to how many you guide?” “No,” I replied, “I’m like a surgeon; I charge the same regardless of the size of the appendix.”
“Great” she said. “I’ll invite twenty of my family and friends.” Then she asked what my favorite neighborhood was, I said, “When whoever is with me is laughing, curious and has pep.”
She chose Harlem.
Pamela appeared with bags of cold water. She was going to give them out to everyone in her party. She even had nametags. Today was a day to stay indoors. Warnings were all over the TV and the radio. Yet seventeen stalwarts soon surrounded us. There were only three no-shows.
Everyone took small steps. I stopped only when I found shade. To a one, every time we congregated this is what I heard. “It’s hot. It’s very hot. It’s really hot.” These words were said is if all were actors in a Greek Chorus, with no intention of moving the plot, only to stall it. The heat had joined me on the stage.
I said, “I'm hot. You’re hot. We’re all hot. This is summer. Stop taking the weather personally."
All of us were descendants of cave men, showing no respect for our ancestors. They went about their business in all types of weather. Yet we, their progency, had grown soft from pleasure and comfort, out of shape with any temperature we could not control.
My group’s discomfort reminded me of another time and another tour. I was with insurance agents. They had won a trip to New York City. They were here for four days and then we were to travel on motor coach to Mohonk Mountain House for three.
That was a hotel, built atop the Shawangunk Ridge, finished in 1869. It was ninety miles north of the city, in New Paltz. This Victorian pile was a sole survivor of a bygone era, when other hotels, of similar size and purpose, were located nearby.
Gazing at the water of the distant Hudson River was a reason to visit, also to glimpse the Catskill Mountain Range. There were winding trails in a pristine forest -- terrain not altered by man’s whim. Such scenery extolled nature, my group would approve, but the hotel itself, according to the needs of my "winners," suffered from two liabilities.
The founders, twin Quaker brothers, were temperance advocates. The still family owned inn, acquiesced only in 1960 and acquired a liquor license; room service lagged behind. There was no alcohol on its menu, while I knew my insurance executives were drinkers.
I could fix that; I could go to a liquor store while still in Manhattan. Yet none of the hotel rooms had air conditioners. That was my issue. I was certainly not stopping at an appliance store and dragging those up. I already heard complaints of “sweating” on a motor coach with a new cooling system. Would they understand they needed to open the hotel room windows to feel nature’s natural breezes?
We did stop at an uptown liquor store. A clerk behind bulletproof glass, along with his entire stock, and two German Shepherds, gave us what we wanted. Everyone exited with smiles, not noticing the broken air conditioner on the sidewalk.
Back in Harlem, I was standing on the third step of the staircase to the second floor entrance of “Cooper’s Funeral Home” I watched as Pamela plus her seventeen used white handkerchiefs she had brought for them, to remove dew from their faces, necks and back. They seemed like flags of surrender; in this battle, Nature had won.
I heard one woman say to another, “Not to brag, but my son was one of the producers of the film ‘American Gangster. ’ It had its opening here.” The other woman replied, “Not to brag, my son has an easy job with the Department of Defense. He does nothing for four days a week and makes a ton of money.”
I kept on going. “The undertaker saved this turn of the century brownstone from the wrecker’s ball."
Then I screamed. “Only when you’re laid out cold, do you not feel hot. Remind yourself that, as long as you're breathing, you have to adapt."
(If you enjoyed this blog please send the link to a like-minded friend. I welcome all new subscribers.)
She e-mailed me. “Does your fee fluctuate according to how many you guide?” “No,” I replied, “I’m like a surgeon; I charge the same regardless of the size of the appendix.”
“Great” she said. “I’ll invite twenty of my family and friends.” Then she asked what my favorite neighborhood was, I said, “When whoever is with me is laughing, curious and has pep.”
She chose Harlem.
Pamela appeared with bags of cold water. She was going to give them out to everyone in her party. She even had nametags. Today was a day to stay indoors. Warnings were all over the TV and the radio. Yet seventeen stalwarts soon surrounded us. There were only three no-shows.
Everyone took small steps. I stopped only when I found shade. To a one, every time we congregated this is what I heard. “It’s hot. It’s very hot. It’s really hot.” These words were said is if all were actors in a Greek Chorus, with no intention of moving the plot, only to stall it. The heat had joined me on the stage.
I said, “I'm hot. You’re hot. We’re all hot. This is summer. Stop taking the weather personally."
All of us were descendants of cave men, showing no respect for our ancestors. They went about their business in all types of weather. Yet we, their progency, had grown soft from pleasure and comfort, out of shape with any temperature we could not control.
My group’s discomfort reminded me of another time and another tour. I was with insurance agents. They had won a trip to New York City. They were here for four days and then we were to travel on motor coach to Mohonk Mountain House for three.
That was a hotel, built atop the Shawangunk Ridge, finished in 1869. It was ninety miles north of the city, in New Paltz. This Victorian pile was a sole survivor of a bygone era, when other hotels, of similar size and purpose, were located nearby.
Gazing at the water of the distant Hudson River was a reason to visit, also to glimpse the Catskill Mountain Range. There were winding trails in a pristine forest -- terrain not altered by man’s whim. Such scenery extolled nature, my group would approve, but the hotel itself, according to the needs of my "winners," suffered from two liabilities.
The founders, twin Quaker brothers, were temperance advocates. The still family owned inn, acquiesced only in 1960 and acquired a liquor license; room service lagged behind. There was no alcohol on its menu, while I knew my insurance executives were drinkers.
I could fix that; I could go to a liquor store while still in Manhattan. Yet none of the hotel rooms had air conditioners. That was my issue. I was certainly not stopping at an appliance store and dragging those up. I already heard complaints of “sweating” on a motor coach with a new cooling system. Would they understand they needed to open the hotel room windows to feel nature’s natural breezes?
We did stop at an uptown liquor store. A clerk behind bulletproof glass, along with his entire stock, and two German Shepherds, gave us what we wanted. Everyone exited with smiles, not noticing the broken air conditioner on the sidewalk.
Back in Harlem, I was standing on the third step of the staircase to the second floor entrance of “Cooper’s Funeral Home” I watched as Pamela plus her seventeen used white handkerchiefs she had brought for them, to remove dew from their faces, necks and back. They seemed like flags of surrender; in this battle, Nature had won.
I heard one woman say to another, “Not to brag, but my son was one of the producers of the film ‘American Gangster. ’ It had its opening here.” The other woman replied, “Not to brag, my son has an easy job with the Department of Defense. He does nothing for four days a week and makes a ton of money.”
I kept on going. “The undertaker saved this turn of the century brownstone from the wrecker’s ball."
Then I screamed. “Only when you’re laid out cold, do you not feel hot. Remind yourself that, as long as you're breathing, you have to adapt."
(If you enjoyed this blog please send the link to a like-minded friend. I welcome all new subscribers.)
Reader Comments (7)
What a day in summer. You are correct, it is summer, what does one
expect. I hear you are really catching the weather from all sides, hot,
and yet storms.
We actually have had a milder summer than last year when we had
l0 days over 100 degrees.
We even had a hard thunderstorm last evening, when the wind blew
so hard, the rain fell sideways instead of down. We didn't lose any
big limbs but lots of little stuff. our neighbor lost big limbs from his
pecan trees, and redbud. It did lower the temp to low 70's for the
night.
Such is life and we live with it. Loved your picture and the hat, but
how did you stand all those clothes in the heat.
Bye now. Hope your play goes well. Allie
Hello, Jane.....glad to see that someone other than me chose Harlem. I am really looking forward to taking our groups there. Send those whiners to LA. The temperature is the same here but the humidity is 100%. Minnett
Can we ever commiserate?!? Loved the article, not the subject. Almost passed out the other day working in my community garden spot. That taught me a real lesson... weeds can wait! I well know the heat radiating off the pavement in NYC. You are valiant, as always! Be careful.
Bully for Pamela!
It's always better to be proactive than
reactive! And since when does grumbling
alter the temperature a single degree?
If you can't stand the heat...
I say, "Get over it and have some lemonade!"
Barbara
love the way you think & write! look forward to the next story. tell us more funny tourist stories with you as the guide. p
For those who laugh at those living in the northern states: Next summer, come spend some time Wisconsin. At least in the winter months we can put on more clothes...and it works. Wearing less for summer does have its limits.
I appreciated your description of the effect of your summer's heat, Jane. I had no idea what it was like for you during those very hot days. I was impressed with the innovative ways NY-ers found to cope with it (passing out bags of water and handing out hankies to others to lessen the 'glow' ; [horses sweat, men perspire, women glow]) along with the willingness of Pamela to attempt to assist others. You attract nice people!