Yes, it’s hot

It’s hot. It’s hot today. It will be hot tomorrow. It will be even hotter next week. So, I’m starting a movement. It’s called the “West Tennessee No Whining About the Heat” symposium. You don’t have to attend the actual conference ’cause it’s a little too warm to have it in our front yard. You can join the movement simply by your participation. Join me in a commitment to abstain from whining about the weather. How will we be able to keep our commitment? I thought you’d never ask. Here are a few practical ideas.
Buy a plastic baby pool for each member of your family. Place the pools in the front yard. Fill each pool with water, lie down in the pools, close your eyes and pretend you’re on the beach in Maui. Oh, and when your pool-owning neighbors walk by and see this act of desperation, they might invite you to come swim. When your non-pool-owning neighbors walk by, they might be inspired to buy plastic baby pools and join you in your front yard. If it’s between 2 and 4, they may even bring cherry limeades. The heat is a great excuse for a neighborhood party.
A second alternative is to spend time at one of our beautiful local lakes. Jump in with full abandon, friend. Don’t think about the snakes, the bacteria, the leeches or the color of the water. It’s summertime, people. Quit with your hand-sanitizing nonsense and live a little. Throw on some old shorts and grab those plastic flip flops! Don’t forget the pork rinds and orange soda.
A final alternative to complaining about the heat? Stay inside. I know. Sometimes brilliance is right under our noses. When we lived in Texas, summertime was like wintertime in Northern Minnesota. The outdoors held dangerous levels of overexposure. Most people stayed inside unless they had a plastic baby pool and a shade tree. And those who made their living working outside? We honored them like they were astronauts coming back from the first trip to the moon. We stood in awe of their ability to work efficiently in the Texas heat. In my book, they were as courageous as Lewis and Clark. So, if you’re an outside laborer, thank you. This time of year you definitely have my undying respect and admiration. I believe someone should buy a plastic pool for your yard and definitely throw in a bag of pork rinds.
We moved here eight years ago from Texas. For a period of time, I grieved for the friends and family members left behind in the Lone Star State. But it didn’t take long to realize that we live in an area of tremendous blessing here in West Tennessee. We drive by fields and fields of corn and soybeans every day. My family lives and works with a community of people we’ve grown to love and respect. Colorado would have cooler summers and beautiful mountain views. Coastal regions could promise plenty of ocean surf and breathtaking sunsets. But as for me, I can’t imagine anything better than “summering” with my friends here in West Tennessee. So don’t waste time complaining about the excessive heat. Just strap your plastic pool onto the car and come on over. Don’t forget the limeades.
For more information about Lisa Smartt, visit her website lisasmartt.com.

Published in The Messenger 6.8.11

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