THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, December 29, 1995 TAG: 9512290668
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: GUY FRIDDELL
LENGTH: Medium: 60 lines
Let me tell you, in case you haven't noticed, it's cold out there. Saber-toothed-tiger weather. It gets to you.
In the bracing company of a family clan from Minnesota on Wednesday night, I figured there'd certainly be no chitchat about the temperature. Not in that towering crowd.
The father, a hearty snow-thatched, young-faced veteran of World War II, and his three sons, were Viking-like, and all the wives were as beauteous as Snow Queens.
If, as artifacts tell us, Norsemen ventured in dragon ships into Minnesota, these were descendants.
They had been to Williamsburg that day. Asked what had impressed them there, the father said, ``I'll tell you one thing, I have never been as cold in all my life as I was today in Williamsburg!''
It was the wind, for one thing, and the dampness, although, as one son noted, the thermometer didn't show 30 below as it did back home.
You talk about entitlements; my feeling is that out of gratitude, if the rest of us don't have to endure arctic fronts, we ought to subsidize our people who must function in sub-zero cold.
Floridians, who live in perpetual sunshine and all of whom look like oranges, ought to be willing to accept a weather tax to cushion existence of folks in colder climes.
Of course, there are individuals who enjoy shivering. One was on the elevator this morning with four of us. ``This is winter!'' he exclaimed. ``What do you expect?''
He pounded his chest with mittened fists and said, ``I enjoy the cold! I like four seasons!''
Good thing for him there wasn't one more story for the elevator or he'd have been seized and plucked of all his wraps.
The winter is no bother if you can nip in and out between a warm auto and office or home.
If you are outside a half-hour or so at the onset of a long day in the wind, the icy scythe begins to insinuate into your vitals, starting at the fingertips.
At the back of our minds during lengthy icy spells are those who have to brave unremitting cold, people who are ill-housed on the edge of poverty with scant fuel to stay warm.
Yes, yes, I know the argument that we should fend for ourselves on such an elemental level. And for those who can't there are charities, churches and kindly strangers.
But to pick up the slack, we have called on local, state and federal aid. In downsizing government, we may leave people out in the cold.
Even the lot of song birds is cause for concern. A gray mockingbird hangs out around the newspaper building.
During prolonged cold, he has started at my feet out of a thick, foot-high border hedge, white wing spots flashing, trying to survive in the teeth of winter. by CNB