And so, here in west central Wisconsin, following six surprise inches of fine, fresh powder overnight Saturday, we find ourselves in the midst of yet another Arctic blast; Polar Vortex II, The Reckoning, you might be inclined to call it, smack dab in the midst of what's almost surely to be remembered as the 'Winter of '14.' (Which sounds kind of weird, actually, leads me - erroneously - to thoughts of Model T's, horse-drawn carriages and chickens kept in people's yards...)
Happily, the media coverage is far less hysterical than two weeks ago, when, to hear your average TV anchor tell it, the Four Snowmen of the Apocalypse were bearing down on us all. But precautions are still being taken this time around: schools are closing, events are being postponed or cancelled outright, and there's a buzz going on about it, on-line and in public places, a uniformity of response centered around a looming danger, which has led to a certain indignation over any class or organization that isn't closing up shop as the Snowmen reach the outskirts of town...
Which, in turn, has led me to wonder if we really are becoming softer as a species.
Surely nobody alive in America today is (or can be expected to be) as hardy as pioneers or American Indians of 150 years ago, but I wonder sometimes, set adrift as we are in the sunny doldrums of comfort and ease, living lives in which every impulse and aversion alike is indulged a hundred times over in real time, if we're as hardy a people as we were fifty years ago, or even thirty.
I grew up in the 70s and 80s in Wisconsin, a state that's always thrown a hell of a winter (a short description of which helped keep Kate Winslet from throwing herself off the stern of the Titanic), and I don't remember a single day off from school back then merely because it was cold. There were plenty of snow days...a bomb scare once, too, and some kind of spill in the Chemistry lab that was so malodorous, classes were let out...but not once was I ever allowed to stay in bed on a Wednesday morning merely because it was cold outside. I could be wrong about this, but given how high in esteem days off were held, I would think I'd remember any that happened for an unusual reason.
I can see, perhaps, closing public schools when the temperature plunges, making sure our young children are not outside in this type of weather, waiting for the bus or, worse, walking to school. But colleges and vo-techs? Other public (but indoor) events? Really? Is the cold weather that unmanageable? That threatening? It sucks, to be sure...but as we ply our day, 99.9 % of us are only actually outside for 5 to 20 seconds at a pass, usually between the front door and our car. Is brutal cold a reason to cease living, to hole up and power down until it passes? I just don't know...
I might be unusual, that is, not the right person to ask, because the last thing I want to do when the weather's like this is stay in and get cozy. I get restless, start climbing the living room curtains, need to get up and get out. But if it's at all true that we've become weak in the face of winter, as usual, I think the news media's to blame. When you consider its hysterical response to the polar vortex (which, as I understand it, is an archaic meteorological term from the 1940s that is neither an uncommon phenomenon in winter, nor all that threatening), perhaps it's no surprise that it's come down to whole days being ground to a halt, in a winter that isn't even as cold as some in the past.
The news media (and by this, I mean primarily television...) operates under the premise of dispensing vital information, giving us the story, keeping us informed, but Humanity survived just fine from 10,000 BC to 1980 AD, prior to the advent of the 24-hour news cycle. We handled cold, and fire and water and earth in a very worthy way. There was tragedy surely, because there is tragedy from time to time in this life. But at no time was our survival as a species threatened in the days before we gave winter storms their own names and stuck reporters under street lamps in Anyplace, Anywhere to broadcast live for the duration. At no time was a cold snap, or a winter storm, treated or thought of as an Apocalyptic event just to sell more cell phones, SUVs and bags of potato chips (because make no mistake, that's what 'news' - particularly the 24-hour kind - has become: never about broadcasting live so much as generating hype for Madison Avenue).
I think the news media's zeal, the unending search for something to spin into a story (or turn into a scoop) in a world where something isn't always happening, not only succeeds in little more than fostering a culture of fear and paranoia, but erodes our ability to think for ourselves, to rely on wits and common sense and observation, and communication with one another (ironically enough) to arrive at the proper response.
A wicked cold snap is not a good situation; it can be dangerous; certainly it presents the potential for hardship (among our most vulnerable citizens in particular), but it is not the fricking snow apocalypse either, and shouldn't be treated that way.
And though I hate this time of year with a white hot passion I keep hoping will one day melt all the snow, I say again, at least it feels like winter, a winter of old. It's kind of reassuring to be trudging through half a foot of snow that came without warning overnight, to have to 'bundle up' and go out to start my car ahead of time, to have a reason to bitch and complain and declare my allegiance to the Conch Republic. Even if these wintry days are an illusion (and nobody with a brain is claiming our current cold snap is proof that climate change isn't real), it's comforting nevertheless to see - and feel - a winter like those I remember from childhood. Brown Thanksgivings and 50 degree days in December - in Wisconsin - are unnatural; a 'January thaw' is supposed to be a minor hiccup in an otherwise impenetrable winter.
