The temperature still hovered about the +6ºF mark as I made my way, nicely (and warmly) bundled in my air force style survival parka, 3M Thinsulate™ gloves, and woolen socks. The headwind was bit brisk with the wind chill a tad below zero (funny—when I was young, there was no such thing as “wind chill,” we just knew it was colder when the wind blew).
I wish we had some fresh snow, the squeak of the compressed snow under the boot, the otherworld silence as the snow muffles the normal sounds of the day, and the little sparkles in the snow, are things I never tire of.
I arrived at the coffee shop to find the boys already there at our table by the front (frosty) plate-glass window, various forms of winter-wear were draped over the backs of the chairs, including a remarkable collection of ear-flapped caps. Gents our age generally remove our headgear when indoors—unlike today’s males who not only wear their caps backwards, but never remove them.
“A bit underdressed,” Carl started in, “doncha think, Jay?”
“Where’s your scarf?” Fred continued from behind his morning Pioneer Press.
“Those gloves aren’t warm enough,” Harold added, “where’s your choppers?”
“Back in the thirties, on the farm,” Medford said over his mug of cream & sugar polluted, organically & shade grown, fair trade, French roast coffee, “you wouldn’t have lasted an hour, dressed like that.”
“I was quite warm, thank you, it’s still twenty-two days ‘til winter,” I replied, wriggling out of my parka, “don’t want to rush the season.”
(Toasty Warm) Jay Merton
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