The Weather Forcast is--?

 

    Hayter for February 23, 2025

          “It was a cold week, my friend

                                    

            A week or two back, we had a rare case of snow followed by a warming trend. I considered the warming trend to be a sign that winter was over. I was so certain of it, that I mentioned as much in last week’s article. I informed you that the weather would be savagely hot for the next eight or nine months.

Of course, the cold spell we just experienced was Mother Nature telling me to keep my big nose out of weather predictions. While I really believe it is God Who handles the weather, I hate to upset Mother Nature. Talk about a fickle woman!

Last week’s freezing temperature was bad enough, but the wind made it so much worse. Wednesday morning, when I stepped outside to get the newspaper, I froze my posterior off. -- I can’t remember the last time I used the word posterior, but I thought it more appropriate than butt. I never know who may be reading.

            For over 40 years, I’ve written articles about cold weather. I have every confidence that none of you remember me writing about the coldest I’ve ever been. So, let me enlighten you. It happened in the winter of 1967. Or, thereabouts. A friend of mine invited me to join him and some of his family members on a deer-hunting excursion in Crockett, Texas. I told my friend that I don’t hunt unless there’s some kind of horrid creature that needs dispatching. Fortunately for the beast, it had not been seen for months… or more.

I’ve been to Crockett several times over the years and enjoyed each visit. However, the visit of ’67 give-or-take was not the least bit enjoyable. It was cold. I was told that we would not have to camp out, that we would be staying in a camp house. A warm place, with a kitchen, running hot water, a bathroom with a tub, and something to sit on if need be was what I imagined..

I was somewhat misled. There was no house. It was a cabin balanced on concrete blocks, with cracks in the floor that you could stick your foot through. No bathroom, toilet, running water, bedrooms, closets or beds.

I came dressed for the cold, in that I had a long-sleeved shirt and a jacket. I was so naïve. That night I slept on the floor in an old military sleeping bag, that was loaned to me by my friend who had anticipated using two bags for himself. The bag I was allowed to use, was as thick as a thin blanket.

It was a little after midnight when I needed to relieve myself. I had been shivering since the moment I hit the floor. There were others spread out in the room, so I knew I needed to go outdoors to relieve myself. And, yes, it was cold out there.  I barely had enough energy to unzip myself, and not nearly enough to scream.

Early in the morning, I started up the ’54 Ford Pickup that Dad let me use. I had to let the thing run for over 30 minutes before the engine warmed up enough to take me home to Pasadena. I don’t know if the crew ended up doing any hunting because I was gone. My friend and I didn’t see much of one another after that. I spent my college years at Stephen F. Austin in Nacogdoches, while he attended the University of Houston up until the time he became a police officer with the HPD.

I have every confidence that our lack of contact over the years had nothing to do with our college and career selections. No, it was the freezing night in a lousy, leaky cabin in Crockett, Texas that we never got over. I can only blame myself because my friend would probably beat the snot out of me if I blamed him. That I can understand.

What I would like to know, though, is, had it snowed, would my attitude have improved enough for me to stay. What I was told is that it was too cold to snow. I don’t understand how it could ever be too cold to snow. I’ve heard it said that it seldom snows in Antarctica, but that’s because it’s desert, and as such not enough precipitation. The ice that’s there, has been there for centuries. The falling snow that you see on PBS doesn’t come from the sky but is ice that is blown from the ground upward. That goes against everything I’ve ever been told about snow. I had to wait and read about it myself.

Don’t worry though. It snows at the North Pole. The weird thing is, there is no land on or near the North Pole. In other words, Santa has established his factory in the Arctic Ocean atop hundreds of feet of ice. Not only that, but from October to March, there is no sunlight at the North Pole. That’s why they don’t get that many tourists there.

 From April to September there is no sunlight at the South Pole. But, there is actually land beneath all of the snow at there.

     At the moment, my purpose here is done. I’ve apologized for letting one or two of you believe there would be no more cold weather this year. And, I shared my near-death episode along with some info about the Poles--North and South, not the Polish people.

Perhaps the next time we meet, there will be more snow on the ground. Of course, if you believe that, I’ve got some land at the North Pole I’d like to sell you.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

From the Back Porch

 

Hayter for February 16, 2025

“Live from the Back porch”

It’s cold and wet out here. I should’ve warned you. Then again, since we’re not currently

in the same time frame, it may have already gotten warm. It can be a pain in the rear to follow

this columnist.

As you cannot see, I’m drinking a cup of cold non-perked coffee, only because it’s been

in the back of the fridge for a good while. Normally I would ask if you would like me to get you

a cup of imagined coffee. But it’s too cold out here to brew pretend coffee.

Speaking of which, I got rid of my old Keurig and bought a new one. It makes different

noises, even without having any bells and whistles. I get excited about new stuff. The old Keurig

was getting as slow as an empty ice maker. The coffee was well brewed, but that’s all the

machine could do. Can you believe that? All that thing did was brew coffee--every day for 10

years!

It was easy to clean, because I have no memory of ever doing it. My only down time was

spent refilling the water reservoir. I had to wrestle the thing off the machine, every day—for a

decade! I’ve developed quite the grip.

My coffee maker has revolutionized the brewing of coffee. I thought something like this

would only come around after I was dead. With AI doing magical stuff with prunes, it will likely

make it possible to simply imagine having a cup of coffee, and one appears on the coffee table.

When I was a kid we used to have a couple of coffee tables, but they should’ve been called tea

tables, because that’s usually what we set on them.

You didn’t ask, but I prefer my coffee to be strong. In fact, I purchased a small bottle of

instant Folger’s to strengthen the weak coffee that Kay bought for me. She likes the smell of

coffee but hates to taste it. I like the taste of iced tea, but hate to drink Kay’s because she adds a

fruit taste. What a way to ruin tea.

Speaking of frothing, my new Keurig has one attached to it. I like my cream frothed, but I

don’t like to the clean the frother because I can’t spare the time. Plus, while cleaning it, I

occasionally manage to nick my pointer finger on the blade. That’s why I’ve only used it once.

By the way, there’s been some thievery in our house. Over the past month, we’ve lost

four forks from our utensil tray. At the moment, we only have four of the eight. If we were to

invite three people over for a meal, one of them would have to eat with a spoon. There’s a chance

I would volunteer to use the spoon, because I’m as good with a spoon as any two-year-old.

Speaking of which, we’re now gaining spoons. Losing forks while gaining spoons, A

force is really messing with me. No one messes with Kay because she’s too sweet. But me?

“Let’s steal some his forks and add to his stash of spoons while he’s taking a nap.

What’s weird is we haven’t invited guests over to eat since COVID19 or 27--I can’t

remember. Regardless, if someone eats at the table with us, they’ll have to raise their masks so

they can stick one of our four forks into their mouth. Way too much trouble for a guest.

Good grief. I practically forgot that we were sitting on the back porch. That should be

easier for you to forget than me… or I. (one of us) By the way, look over at the two rose bushes

that are between the birdbath and the six-foot tall make-believe windmill. The rose bushes are

small, leafless and rose-less. Since they only produce a few roses in season, Kay wants to dig

them up, because they never look as good as the roses our neighbors have.

Unfortunately, I missed Kay’s point. When the roses eventually bloom, they’ll look

beautiful, but won’t look nearly as good as those in our neighborhood. The only way our

neighbors could see our few roses, is to climb the six-foot wooden fence around our house. I just

don’t think it would be worth the climb.

It doesn’t matter. I’m proud of Kay for taking care of the plant life in the yard, so I should

not make a big stink over the roses. I’ll wait for her to start throwing away some of my fun stuff

that I haven’t used in years. But one day they’ll get another trip outdoors. Hopefully it won’t

involve a place in a garbage truck.

Oh, before leaving, I’ve got to ask you something. “How about those Chiefs?” I invited

Jill over to watch the game with us. She was pulling for the Eagles. You know why? Because

Larry, our oldest sibling, doesn’t like “Malone”. That’s what he calls “Patrick Mahomes”… bless

his heart. I shouldn’t make fun of Larry, because I am on the cusp of losing my own mind. Of

course, I’m hanging in there like grim death. (Yes, “grim death” came from the movie “One on

One”. If you haven’t seen it, I recommend you go online and find it.)

Anyway, Jill was cheering for the Eagles all the way. However, she made it a point not to

run down my team. She didn’t need to, because I was doing enough trashing of them. Who on

earth were those guys? They played like the Chicago Black Socks during the 1919 World Series!

I don’t believe they intentionally lost, because if they had they wouldn’t have made it look so

easy.

The good that evening was that I grilled two racks of ribs. They were the best, Jerry. But

the really best thing about them, is the fact that Kay and Jill do not like leftover ribs. That’s the

most ridiculous and wonderful thing about last Sunday. By the way, it’s hard to finish a rack of

ribs by your lonesome. I would’ve never guessed. Just like I never guessed that the Chief’s

would lose. Yeah, it still hurts… which happens to be the last name of the Eagles quarterback.

There’s definitely weird stuff going on.                                

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

Oklahoma and other issues

 

Hayter for February 9, 2025

Seat belts on! We've got three subjects this week.”

I’ve prepared for you three topics, each of which is slightly related to the others. At least, that was my goal. Are you ready? Okay.

 I assume you heard that Punxsutawney Phil didn’t see its shadow last week—meaning the country is having six more weeks of cold weather. This is true only of countries in the Northern Hemisphere with groundhogs.

I’m here to tell you that winter is already over for us. People north of Dallas may freeze their buns off in early March, but it’s not happening down here this year, nor throughout the remainder of my lifetime. Snow is over in Montgomery County… unless the earth develops a mean tilt.

I now choose to share with you a collection of words that were created to replace cursing. Throughout my youth, anyone caught uttering the following words was due a trip to purgatory in a basket. I shall start with “Sam Hill” as in “What the Sam Hill are you doing?” I discovered that “Sam Hill” was first found in print around 1830. I read several ideas about its reference. I considered most of them a stretch.

I eventually settled on the most plausible explanation to me. -- “Sam” referenced satan, and “Hill” stood for hell. That’s why my Mom’s family in Oklahoma would not allow the words to be spoken together. “Sam” is okay. “Hill” is okay. But saying “What the Sam Hill is going on” could earn you a forever life with the devil.

 I once mentioned the incident where Kay’s dad walked into the open corner of a garage door. The moment his forehead hit the sharp metal corner it drew blood and the quickest swelling I’ve ever seen. Uncle Ray immediately grinned and said, “Ouch”. I don’t know what swear word that represents. What I do know is that Kay’s dad was not of this world. I knew him to be God’s gift to humanity.

I’ve likely mentioned a time or two about the different trips the Hayter family took to Bristow, Oklahoma to see my mother’s family. Practically every evening everyone met at Grandma and Grandpa’s house to sit on the porch and talk into the night.

During one of our gatherings, the adults in the Teagarden Family were sharing old times.  Kids didn’t have all that much to share. Unfortunately, God let me join in on one conversation. I’m blaming it on Him because it was not like me to interrupt the adults. While I don’t remember the topic in question, I do remember the one word that brought me down—“golly”

I was not able to finish the sentence that housed the word, because my 22-year-old cousin Dale, broke in with the words “What did you say?” At that moment, his was the only voice heard on the porch. “Come on, say it again! Repeat what you just said!” I let him continue for a few more seconds before leaving the porch and hiding behind the giant elm tree at the side of the house.

            The fact that I still remember that story, is somewhat tied to my third and last topic—COVID! You’ve likely had it. Kay and I both caught it twice. In 2020, she got it first and passed it along to me. In 2022 I reciprocated. I got the same symptoms a third time, but my test strip didn’t register it. Test strips can be so temperamental.

            During our COVID cases, Kay and I both suffered from a lack of interest in reading, watching TV, or listening to or sharing in conversation. We both had continued problems with headaches, sore throat, nausea—and a few other symptoms, the thoughts of which are, at this moment, causing me to relive the experience.—Excuse me a second.—Okay, I’m better now.

Unfortunately, the worst thing that COVID-19 did to me was mess with my memory. I’ve still got a decent long-term memory, I just can’t remember why, at times, I find myself standing up without remembering where I intended to go. Fortunately, I have yet to question why I’m in the bathroom. That’s got to be a good sign.

Oh, and my imagination is experiencing an overload. I can hear car doors shutting from several blocks away. On occasion, I’ll say, “Kay, will you answer the door? I’m in the middle of something.” She’ll tell me that there was no knock on the door or ringing of the bell. I only doubted her the first time it happened.     

Fortunately, both of us are still retired. If Kay were to lose some of her memory,  I’d force myself to get her a dog. They’re much better than I am at calming her down. Cats? They’re all about themselves. The fact that I still know that to be true shows that my brain is improving every minute.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com