Please Mr. Gore, Let Me Have a Little “Global Warming”!

I was born of the South. I glory in being a resident of Florida. I got here in December, probably during a cold snap, but I was spared the memory. South means “warm” and that is what I crave.

Although there are rumors of cold times during my growing-up years, I recall few days of downright discomfort. The ground would occasionally freeze after a winter storm, but most of us could handle this day or two of ice. We had to cope with open fireplaces where we warmed our backsides before we jumped into bed and burrowed down into several quilts for a solid night’s sleep. On occasion I spent time on my uncle’s farm and had the adventure of using outdoor privies, and these were truly tough on your bare skin, but this was short term.

I went to college in Lakeland, where oranges grew on trees and the trees were scattered about a beautiful campus that fronted on a fine lake with water skiers flitting about.

And at first the Navy was kind to me, with boot camp in San Diego, followed by school in Jacksonville and then seven months duty on Guam. There was no cold weather there. Heavy rains three or four times a day, yes, but it was warm rain. We even experienced a long dry spell. It lasted three days, and was the longest on record.

Then my orders to Officer Candidate School caught up with me, and in mid January I arrived in Rhode Island. I was twenty three, and I saw snow for the first time. I saw snow, and then some more snow, and as if that was not enough, some snow on top of all of that snow. It was cold, and damp and the cold went through my peacoat to my bones and even memories of coconut trees did not help.

After Graduation I went to a ship. We were in and out of cold climes. You can believe me that five degrees below the Arctic Circle doesn’t make too much difference in the way that cold affects you. Standing on the bridge of a destroyer, clad in heavy clothes and watching salt water freeze on the foredeck is not attractive to a Southerner. It did teach me something. In the midst of my first encounter, I promised my Methodist Lord that if he would let me get back to port I would never return to Bluenose territory. The next month I found that our captain had overruled God, and we were back for more ice and snow.

When I returned to Florida my father decided I should attend Ford Motor Company’s Merchandising School, which was set up to train prospective dealers. I agreed to go if I could go in warm weather. Of course, with the luck of the Germans (you remember the Germans…. they lost two wars to us, and had the Italians for allies in the last one) that is built into me, I landed in Detroit on January 5, and was followed immediately by the worst blizzard in twenty five years. There was but one pleasant experience. I had a weekend date with a real “snow bunny”, but she had so many outer garments on that we could only hold hands and kiss. I suppose we kissed, but my lips may have been touching ice cubes. After three weeks I returned to Florida.

Recently I have been subjected to some very intense cold. When I began walking my daily three miles I decided that I would go rain or shine, warm or cold, except in thunderstorms. But several times lately the cold has been unconscionable. I am still walking but I am not happy. I have been told that I should “layer” my clothes for warmth. I do this. I begin with skivvies, add cargo pants below, a special *Nike* shirt above and then I top it off with a red, white and blue windbreaker, complete with high collar and an attached hood. If the day is bright, I don sunshades. I have a beard. I wear a ball cap. My running gloves complete my ensemble. I am fearful that if I fall down I will lie there on my back, waving my arms and legs like an abandoned turtle.

The problem is that I look like a Unibomber. With wraparound shades, beard, ball cap and hood there is little there that resembles me. I have quit walking along U. S. 90 because drivers were running into ditches when they saw me. I now confine my three miles to the street in front of my home, but dogs bark at me, and my neighbors are reluctant to leave their homes.

I understand why we are fearful of Global Warming. We have been cautioned that the ice will melt and the oceans will rise and we will have a different shoreline, maybe even as far inland as Compass Lake in the Hills, …which should increase the desirability of that property. Our manatees are already having problems. If you recall, one ended up in New York Harbor last year. He had a stubborn but befuddled look on his face. His mate had told him when they left the St. Johns River to turn south but he turned north. This is normal for all males. We do not listen to our mates or ask directions. Anyone between Florida and Cape May, New Jersey, would have given him directions, but he would not ask.

If the manatees go north I suspect that they will be replaced by South American penguins. This is okay with me. Penguins are cute, and they dress well. Their eyes are a little close together, though, which indicates little intelligence. When we get penguins up here we can quit asking the question: “Why did the chicken cross the road?” and start saying: “Where did all these funny birds with tuxedos come from, and what makes them think they can waddle across Interstate 10?”

We really don’t want Global Warming. We know that it is happening and that *Al Gore* is in charge of the entire process, both foreign and domestic. I will be starting a petition soon, begging him to let a little sunshine through onto Dairy Road, so that I can walk and lose weight, and someday fit into my Navy uniform, and not be mistaken for the Unibomber. I will give each of you an opportunity to sign on.

In the meantime, go on line to *Jackson County Times* and click on “Homer Hirt” and become a “Follower”. I have nine now, and I understand from *Stephanie*, The REALEDITOR, that there is a room for more. This will give you practice in retrieving my *Al Gore* petition.