How sweat it is

Yeah, I was pretty miserable much of last week. It wasn’t the heat, it was all the people griping about it.

Rack it up to perversity, orneriness, or a genetic predilection arising from too many generations shivering in sub-arctic climes, but when somebody asks me, “Hot enough for ya?,” until the thermometer shows three digits or so, I’m inclined to honestly respond, “Nah, a little more sun would be nice.” In all honesty, I’ve been secretly rooting for global warming and feeling bad that I’m likely to be dead before the best of it gets here.

I like hot weather, and I’m darn sick of all these people whining about it.

Especially people who live in Minnesota.

I might be a little less put out if these weren’t the same grumblers I put up with back in January. The same people who spend the winter complaining that they’re cold instead of pulling on a pair of long johns are the people beefing about too much humidity six months later. C’mon people, surviving the outdoors without a parka is what summer is all about. Get used to it!

Frankly, I fault air conditioning for freezing people’s ability to enjoy a bright summer day.

It used to be we lived in rhythm with the seasons. In the spring we planted stuff so we’d have something to eat. In the fall we picked what we planted, and in winter we kept warm cutting a lot of wood to burn to cook the stuff we planted and picked.

In the summer we laid around a lot because there wasn’t much to do.

And because it was hot.

Then along came air conditioning to take the hot out of summer. It really spoiled the season.

We were better off before we tried to refrigerate every enclosed space and only refrigerated the places where we kept our beer.

Before air conditioning a good hot day was reason to wear comfortable clothes, do as little as possible, and knock off early for a swim.

Nowadays a hot day means higher electric bills and people scuttling from cars to buildings like they were in the midst of a blizzard. We’ve become a people afraid of our own sweat.

Ninth grade health class and subsequent experience taught me that human sweat is a good thing. Dogs don’t sweat; instead they lay around panting and slobbering all over themselves. Hogs don’t sweat; when it gets hot they just lay down and die. It is good to remind ourselves that despite the thousands of hours of personal hygiene ads broadcast on TV, wetness is not a terminal condition. In fact, the burgeoning human population attests that through the centuries working up a bit of a sweat was no barrier to forming and maintaining lasting, romantic relationships – in fact, it probable contributed to it. The truth is, a little sweat feels good. It makes you feel warmed up and loose jointed, and when you catch a little breeze, nothing you can do in public feels better.

For that matter, a whole lot of sweat isn’t that bad either. Working up a good shirt soaking sweat is a sure excuse for taking a break, sitting in the shade, and sipping something cool.

That feels real good too.

When you get down to it, we really need hot weather and we should be more appreciative of the fact.

If we don’t have hot days we can’t grow really good sweet corn.

And until it gets really hot, fat people don’t get up the nerve to go swimming. When the heat goes up, the tan and fit are forced to share the pool with the pale and padded. But it takes a lot of sun before us pudgy folk claim our rightful place in the water.

Best of all, a good string of scorchers is a reminder that it’s summer; time to ease up, slow down. Slide the chaise lounge into the shade, kick off your shoes, crack a cold one and settle into the warm embrace of a summer’s day.

There’s no greater contentment in all creation.