Air conditioning can spoil you

A few weeks ago, our son reported that his air conditioner was on the fritz. At the time, the temperatures were in the high 90s and, with five small children, the conditions in the home were miserable.

My wife asked me if I invited them to come stay with us and, when I reported that I had not, I became a cruel cad and was instructed to rectify that situation.

Fortunately, a neighbor with expertise in this area solved the dilemma but not until the family had sweltered for several days.

All of which led me to start reminiscing about my own Southern childhood, which was accomplished without any kind of air conditioning. How did we ever survive? I really mean it, how did we survive?

The home I grew up in had open windows and fans. Air conditioning was found only in the better department stores and in the local movie theaters.

My father’s car had when he called “universal air conditioning,” which meant he drove with all the windows down.

If memory serves correctly, Dickson Elementary School didn’t have air conditioning either. The junior high and the senior high did but, one summer when I had to take a class to make up for a class I failed, the A/C wasn’t turned on.

In those days, summer school was for dummies who didn’t study during the regular school year and, thus, were declared ineligible for air conditioning. The teacher had a fan but, except for that pitiful amenity, suffered right along with the rest of us.

The funny thing is that I don’t remember being terribly hot. As kids, we played outside on the swing set and in the woods next door, we rode bicycles and played baseball in the street, and we drank lots of sweet Southern ice tea.

We swam in the local American Legion Pool at every opportunity and, on the weekends, caught the bus, which had “universal air conditioning,” and attended the mid-day showing at the blissfully cold State Theater.

For a dollar and some Foremost milk carton labels, we could ride the bus round-trip, get in to see the movie, have a Coke and small popcorn, and, at the bus station following the movie, could get a hot dog and Coke. All for a dollar. But I digress.

In junior high and high school we began football practice in full pads in early August and, for a period of a week or two, had “two-a-days,” hitting the field at 8 a.m. and again around 3:30 p.m.

In those days, we didn’t get a single water break – ever. We did get a quarter of a lemon to suck on in the middle of practice and took two salt tablets with one swig of water, but that was all the hydration we received during those hot, humid days.

As I said, “How did we ever survive?”

But, somehow, we not only survived, we thrived. In a world without air conditioning, color television, video games, cell phones or computers, we found things to do, had great adventures, hung out with our friends, stayed mostly out of trouble, and had fun.

Today, unless kids are in organized sports, it seems that they rarely venture out of doors. “It’s too hot,” they claim, and, frankly, I agree with them.

I find the heat these days practically unbearable. I like my air-conditioned house, my air-conditioned car, my air-conditioned office, my air-conditioned church on Sundays, my air-conditioned shops and stores, and, if I could, I’d go to air-conditioned ball fields and stadiums to watch the local amateur teams play.

I am spoiled, I realize, by technology and have no intention of returning to my roots by throwing out the A/C units. I have come to grips with the fact that, in this area, I have become soft, weak, even wimpy.

I’m an ex-football player, a former Marine, I’ve been to Kenya, to Uganda, and I’ve lived in the Far West near the deserts. I don’t care. I’m just no longer tough enough to do without air conditioning.

How did we ever survive? It seems impossible that we actually did. My children don’t understand. There was never a day that air conditioning wasn’t a part of their existence.

Somehow, as a kid, I slept soundly without A/C, went to school without it, rode in cars and buses without it, and sat in churches where every parishioner kept cool by waving a funeral home fan on Sundays.

I had a wonderful and wonder-filled childhood, even if summers were hot. The memories are pleasant, yet, I’m with Carly Simon who once sang, “These are the good old days.”